


Keeping Up

by bluerose5



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Crossover, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, I Don't Even Know, Inquisition Timeline, M/M, Mage/Rogue Reyes Vidal, Mage/Warrior Scott Ryder, Mages, Minor Character Death, Nudity, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Piercings, Rating May Change, Self-Indulgent, Sexual Tension, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-02-14 12:38:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13007955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluerose5/pseuds/bluerose5
Summary: If Scott expects anything in his travels west, it is definitely not to run into a band of Templars so soon.[A series of one-shots in a DAI/MEA crossover, focusing around the mReyder ship.]





	1. First Encounters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Reyes meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, I have plenty of other WIPs that I should be working on. Why not add one more?
> 
> I couldn't help it. I'm weak, and I've been waiting to see a fic with this type of crossover. Guess I took matters into my own hands. *Shrugs*
> 
> Hope you enjoy! ^_^

# First Encounters

            If Scott expects anything in his travels west, it is definitely not to run into a band of Templars so soon.

            At least, it is much too soon for his liking. He is just making his way out of the last village he visited when he comes across their trail. He expects nothing more than a group of hunters or bandits, and he is just about to steer clear when the dreaded war cries reach his ears. The warriors spit out curses and threats to whatever “foul mage” they have cornered, and Scott wastes a weighted second of precious time, debating over whether a rescue attempt is worth his time and effort.

            As soon as the thoughts cross his mind, however, he feels guilt course through his veins. He has never been the one to turn his back on a fellow mage, apostate or no. He has never been the one to consider his brethren beyond redemption, sinner or not. Thankfully, through a series of fateful events, Scott never had to step foot in a Circle tower. Although, with the mage-templar war coming to a head, Scott is more likely to meet pain or death in his travels, rather than Tranquility or imprisonment.

            If Scott can save another hapless soul from such an unfortunate end, then he is willing to sacrifice himself to do so.

            Readying his staff, Scott crouches low in the brush before him, casting a barrier tight around his body. He navigates the area as he was taught, minimizing any noise while he approaches the upcoming clearing. For each step he takes forward, the noise crescendos respectively. It is relentless in its assault on Scott’s ears, and it increases in volume until it is no more than a deafening roar.

            What Scott finds makes his jaw go slack.

            There, in the middle of the throng of Templars, is a man shrouded in darkness. This supposed “mage” is covered in dark, practical leathers with a black cloak billowing gracefully around his form. He uses no magic, not from what Scott observes, but he darts around with a speed and an elegance that demands attention. As the Templars take their turns, wasting their lyrium reserves on dispelling the lone man’s powers, he takes command of the battlefield on his own. Instead of relying on magic, he turns to a supply of daggers and arrows, hidden from clear sight. Like a natural rogue, he uses his stealth, his poisons, his traps… He is relentless.

            _But he is still outnumbered,_ Scott notes in alarm. This man must be significant, dangerous beyond comprehension, to attract such attention from the Templars. Scott does not let that deter himself. He set out on a mission, with a purpose.

            He will see it through.

            Exiting from the forest’s protective sanctuary, Scott steps into the clearing’s bright light. Golden eyes focus in on his movement for a split second, long enough to assess whether Scott is friend or foe. Within that same second, he dismisses the newcomer, focusing in at the task at hand. The stranger twirls his gleaming daggers with unique precision, honing in on the Templars’ weak spots without hesitation, killing with a trained force.

            Scott uses the distraction to take the other Templars by surprise. Never one to back down, Scott fade steps into the center of the fight, following the move immediately with a mind blast that knocks several Templars off of their feet. Those that remain standing are stunned, long enough for the stranger to move in, finishing them off with a bloody flourish. Scott pays him little mind now, using his staff to cast a few blows of electricity. As his mana rebuilds, he then casts a chain of lightning at his opponents. Some fall then, convulsing until they move no more, yet there are still a few that somehow recover. Each barely has the time to let out another war cry before three arrows are embedded in their weakened bodies, some piercing through the metal and some slicing through pure flesh.

            Winded and exhausted, both of the men in the clearing are panting in fatigue by the time the fight ends. They listen out for any signs of future battle, but only silence meets their ears.

            A low, throaty chuckle escapes the stranger.

            “Fool,” he huffs, regaining his breath. Scott appraises the man in bewilderment, standing up so that his staff bears his weight.

            “I believe the words that you are looking for are—” The man steps forward suddenly, garnering Scott’s full attention. The stranger begins to uncover his hood, and he unravels the fabric surrounding his nose and mouth. Scott’s jaw drops for the second time that day, gaping open and close like a fish out of water. “—‘thank you.’”

            “Hmph, you were foolish to try and help me. Trust me, if I _needed_ your help, I would have readily given my thanks,” the beautiful man says in place of a greeting, his voice warm and soothing. It sends a pool of heat to Scott’s face. It sends a shiver of anticipation down his spine. It is a siren’s crooning whisper, seducing the ears without a thought. “Everything was under control.”

            It is a trap that Scott is all too willing to fall into.

            “Was it?” Scott asks, smirking confidently. The stranger stops to glance at the younger man, narrowing his gaze in suspicion. “The situation seemed pretty dire. At least, from where I was standing.”

            “I can assure you,” the stranger hums, strolling over to a Templar’s corpse. Without breaking Scott’s gaze, he steps on the body and rips his arrow free from its chest. He steps down and turns his gaze on the bloody arrow, gazing so intently upon it, as if he is an Orlesian sampling another fancy, ruby red wine. Those golden eyes snap back to Scott’s with equal intensity, and the stranger’s mouth stretches into a wicked grin. “It was under control, just as I said it was.”

            At this point, it is nearly impossible for Scott to figure out what has gotten into himself, but he listens to his instincts nonetheless.

            He starts towards the man when he goes to recover another arrow. Just as the stranger stands upright, Scott is in his personal space, but the older man does not back down. He faces Scott so that the two are chest-to-chest, and he raises an incredulous brow at the young Ferelden’s audacity. Neither dare budge, for both are too stubborn to do so.

            “May I help you?” the stranger taunts, twirling his arrow dexterously between his fingers. Scott watches it spin for a moment before he returns to the task at hand.

            “Actually, I think you can,” Scott says. Quickly, he tries to clear his throat, but the other man merely chuckles at his husky tones. The stranger’s eyelids droop, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Scott knows when he is being toyed with, but damn it all if he does not watch that pink tongue dart out across those lush lips, entranced with an attention that most only preserve for the Maker Himself.

            Andraste’s tits, if this man ever asked Scott to drop to his knees before him in worship… Well, Scott had never been a religious man, but he could quickly become one if this stranger was the god to follow.

            Scott nearly chokes on his own spit when his eyes catch on a glint of light. It is much too quick for his vision to fully decipher, there and gone within a moment, but it is enough to give him an idea of what is hiding there, beyond that man’s plump mouth.

            Not even desire demons could have carefully crafted a man so divine.

            “Oh, and what services could I possibly provide?”

            “I could think of a few,” Scott mumbles. Obviously not low enough, given how the stranger laughs at him in smug amusement. Blood rushes to Scott’s cheeks, but he ignores it. “Actually, I only want your name.”

            “ _Only_ my name?” he questions skeptically.

            “Yep.”

            “Hmm…” The stranger averts his eyes, chewing on his lip in thought. Those rich golden eyes soon return to bright blue ones, luring Scott in with ease. “Okay, fine, but I have my own price.”

            “Name it.”

            The stranger shrugs, doing his best to appear as if he is undeterred by Scott’s presence. “Give me your name in return, since you seem so keen on calling yourself my savior.”

            “That’s a fair trade,” Scott allows, bowing politely at the waist. “Scott Ryder of Ferelden, at your service.”

            “Ha! Trust me, such a handsome man should not wish to be at _my_ service,” the rogue snickers, not even trying to conceal his flashy smile. He mimics Scott’s bow mockingly, adding a touch of his own dramatic flair. “Captain Reyes Vidal of Rivain. It’s a pleasure, I’m sure.”

            “Captain?” Scott questions, curiosity evident in his expression. Reyes _tsk_ s at him, shaking his head in faux disappointment.

            “I call you handsome, and the first thing you latch onto is my title. Such a waste.”

            Scott rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and Reyes cannot ignore how his heart pounds in reaction. No one should have the right to look so handsome.

            “I could always make it up to you—” Scott starts.

            “Of course you could,” Reyes interrupts. He places his hand over his heart, feigning a wounded expression. “It would only be right, after all. To make it up to me.”

            “But you cannot deny the fact that I have a right to be curious,” Scott continues, as if he has not been interrupted in the slightest. He persists, “You called yourself ‘Captain.’”

            Reyes sighs, “I did, yes. I was a pirate, but now I’m not. That’s all that I will say on the matter, so you will have to be satisfied with that.”

            “Touchy subject?” Scott guesses, feeling a pang of guilt for pressing, especially when Reyes’ face darkens in distaste.

            “You have no idea.”

            The two men stand idle in the forest for a second or two, allowing the awkward tension to blanket the forest around them. Such an atmosphere seems at odds with the nature surrounding them. Wildlife is gradually returning to its activities. Delighted chirps and rustling creatures skitter about in glee, returning to the hustle and bustle that was present before the attack. Scott continues to brew in their tense silence before he cannot take it anymore.

            “So… Captain Vidal, what are you planning on doing now?”

            Shocked from his stupor, Reyes blinks at him owlishly, escaping from the hellish memories that haunt him every day and every night. It takes him a moment to compose himself, to gather his thoughts into something that at least resembles coherence.

            “What do you mean by ‘planning’?” Reyes asks, genuinely confused.

            “You know—” Scott gestures helplessly, eventually settling on a shrug. “What’s next on your list? Where to?”

            “Oh,” Reyes laughs stiltedly in realization. “No plan. There hasn’t been one in a while. I just drift, I guess.”

            Pursing his lips, Scott scowls.  
            “All on your own?”

            “Same could be said for you,” Reyes points out. Scott grimaces and averts his gaze.

            “I gave up certain companionship a long time ago,” Scott whispers wistfully, his voice vulnerable, barely noticeable above the rustling winds. “Had a family, once upon a time, but when you’re a mage…”

            “It’s either a life in the Circle or a life on the run,” Reyes replies. Scott glances up, and he is surprised by what he finds in the other’s gaze. It is not sympathy, but it is empathy. Normally, Scott is not one to linger on such semantics. In that moment, though, the difference means the world to him.

            To have someone finally understand, to have them capable of putting themselves into his shoes, means more than he could possibly put into words.

            It is what cements the unspoken deal between Reyes and himself.

            Reyes is the one clearing his throat this time, touched by the raw emotion that he sees in Scott’s expression; however, it is Scott that initiates the conversation again.

            “I couldn’t even consider putting my family through this,” Scott explains, not stopping to question why he feels the need to justify himself to this man. Maybe the loneliness is getting to him.

            “Our Circles in Rivain were not quite as strict as yours in Ferelden. Definitely not as strict as the Chantry desired,” Reyes whispers, heart stuck in his throat. “The Rivaini revere magic. We celebrate it. We are taught how to wield it, and we embrace it as a part of ourselves. My mother was a seer, and she lived long enough to see her gift manifest itself in me.” Reyes smirks bitterly. “At least, that was before they invoked the Right of Annulment against my people. I’m certain that the rest of Thedas loses no sleep over what happened there. Such a love for magic is blasphemous at worst, and dangerous at best.”

            “That’s the delusion that the Chantry encourages, at least,” Scott snorts, crossing his arms over his chest. Reyes recognizes the moment of insecurity, but his smile instead turns softer, more genuine, meant to build up but not to break down.

            “Ah, so there are opinions outside of what old women claim to be the ‘Maker’s will’,” Reyes jokes.

            “A few,” Scott says, “but you managed to avoid the question again.”

            “Did I?” Reyes asks. Scott gives a frustrated huff, and Reyes’ eyes crinkle in laughter.

            “Come on,” Scott coaxes. “What are your plans?”

            “Well, first, I plan on getting away from this stinking pile of Templars,” Reyes answers, wrinkling his nose at the scattered bodies.

            “And then…?”

            “Then… I go wherever I feel like.”

            “Why not go back to Rivain? Continue to be a pirate? Surely, you are capable enough to navigate around the Templars,” Scott presses. Reyes chortles weakly, shrugging off the question as he strolls around. He salvages what he can of his remaining arrows, and he loots the corpses of anything that he can use. Scott follows close behind, peaking at his progress.

            “Rivain is too many fresh wounds just waiting to be reopened,” Reyes sighs wearily. “No thanks. I’ll fight the Templars here any day.”

            Scott pauses, considering.

            “Perhaps you can come with me?” Scott suggests, watching as Reyes soaks the words in, considering.

            “Come with you where?”

            “To Haven,” Scott states bluntly. Reyes winces, glaring at the younger man.

            “Excuse me? I must be mistaken. I thought you asked me to accompany you to Haven. The only thing there is—”

            “The Inquisition. So you have heard.”

            “ _Everyone_ has heard of the Inquisition by now,” Reyes spits in disgust. “Those that haven’t must live under a rock. What I don’t understand is where I play into your vision of this? I am a pirate, a smuggler, a _blood mage_ …” Scott does not even blink at the revelation, eyes widening ever-so slightly in fascination. “What good will I do amongst some cult of religious and political outcasts?”

            “I hear they’re open to recruits, no matter what background. Apparently, that happens when their so-called ‘Herald’ is a Dalish elf. She apparently has a lot more influence than expected.”

            “Good for her, but I’m still not keen on this.”

            “Then say ‘no,’” Scott sighs. “I obviously cannot make you do anything that you don’t want to. I was merely offering something more than the ‘drifting’ you do.”

            “How are you so sure that they will not lock you up, given the opportunity?” Reyes counters, not liking this one bit.

            Why does he even care?

            “If the rumors are to be trusted, they already have mages in their ranks, including other apostates. With the Breach posing a threat, I don’t think they have the time to be picky about their recruits.”

            Reyes definitely does not like this.

            However, he shocks even himself by what happens next.

            “I don’t trust them anymore than I do the Chantry,” Reyes sneers, “but I’ll accompany you.”

            Scott apparently was not expecting that either.

            “You will?!” he croaks, gawking in disbelief. His mouth hangs open in pure shock, and Reyes would have taken the opportunity to make a witty quip if dread was not already flowing through his veins.

            “I will,” Reyes reaffirms, “but only to ensure your safety.”

            Scott recovers quickly at that, realizes the magnitude of Reyes’ statement, and blushes.

            “You don’t have t—”

            “But I want to,” Reyes says in defeat. “Don’t ask me why. I know we are but strangers. I am certain that you can defend yourself, but I tend to follow my gut on matters like this. Unfortunately for my health, my gut is telling me to follow you. You seem like a good man, Scott Ryder. It would be a waste if the Chantry were able to get their hands on you.”

            “Then, it’ll be nice that you’ll be there. To make sure they don’t.”

            “You have a lot of confidence in my skills, considering we just met.”

            “Well, I have seen you in action, so I think it’s safe to say that I can form my own opinions on the matter,” Scott says, smiling flirtatiously. Reyes ignores the butterflies fluttering around in his stomach, turning his attention to the younger man.

            “Please, by all means, do share what you think.”

            “Well…” Scott drones, sauntering back into Reyes’ space. “I can definitely say that what I’ve seen is impressive.” Scott’s voice drops lower, seductively weaving its ways through Reyes’ ears. The older man is powerless to stop the shudder from trickling down his spine. Of course, Scott notices, but he merely smirks, saying nothing in response. His arrogant gaze is comment enough, apparently. “I look forward to discovering what other skills you have, Captain.”

            That title should not sound as sinful as it does, coming from Scott’s lips. Reyes absently wonders what other contexts Scott would be amenable to using it in, but Reyes is getting ahead of himself. First things first…

            “True, I am a man of many skills, but I assure you that I have never been known to disappoint.” Reyes winks. “Never received complaints before, but perhaps this discussion can be saved for later. Preferably with less dead bodies.”

            “Spoil-sport,” Scott taunts.

            “I’ll make it up to you later,” Reyes promises.

            “I’ll hold you to that.”

            “I’d be upset if you didn’t,” Reyes says, “but we still have much time before the day is done. Perhaps you should lead the way to Haven, my fellow wanderer.”

            Scott smiles gently.

            “Think you can keep up?” he asks playfully. Reyes shoots him his own grin.

            “I wouldn’t dream of falling behind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In my next chapter, I'll hopefully go into more detail about Reyes. I literally don't know where I'm heading with this, but I definitely had fun writing it! I love these two boys so much! <3


	2. Goodbyes Part 1/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reyes has to tell his father goodbye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so, first things first, I have started back my next semester of college, and I have been working through writers block as well so just be patient with me please. I'll update this and other stories whenever I can.
> 
> Secondly, these next four chapters I have planned are going to be a bit angsty. It's not because I want to torture the characters, but I just felt that it was essential that everyone saw moments of Reyes' and Scott's lives in this AU that shaped who they are by the time Inquisition occurs. I hope that I will do the characters justice, and I welcome feedback.
> 
> Lastly, since we don't have an abundant amount of information on Rivain, I will be taking some liberties here and there. Just a reminder that this does not mean to accurately portray Rivain in-canon.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! <3

# Goodbyes Part 1/4

**9:30 Dragon**

Reyes is eighteen when he experiences heartache for the first time.

            In reality, it’s nothing like it sounds. It’s nothing even remotely romantic. Far from it, as a matter of fact. No, this heartache resonates because of something deeper, something purer. It stems from a familial bond that is broken all too soon, torn apart due to hatred and vengeance. Reyes is not well after his father leaves. He struggles, and he grieves. He feels, and he rebels.

            And eventually, he leaves as well.

            Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

            It starts like this.

            His father is— _was_ a Crow. He was decent enough, in his own words. Just good enough that he was barely able to get by as an assassin. Regardless of such a humble recollection, his House had remained satisfied with his work, but he was careful not to draw too much attention upon himself. As time went on, however, brick upon brick was set in place, building a weight of burden on young Mateo’s back. A ruthless weapon was forged from the fires, and a cold heart was crafted out of necessity.

            For years, it was no more than that. One kill after another. Another stain to taint his soul. He was no more than an object to the Crows, no more than a tool, and it shamed Mateo how long it took for him to figure it all out. One day, he saw the truth, but it was a day that followed years of wasted opportunities. Mateo didn’t let that stop him, though. He couldn’t.

            He only had one chance to escape the pit that he was in. He didn’t have time to drown in his mind’s dark depths. He had one chance, and so he took it.

            As if the Crows would let him go that easy.

            While on the run, injured and broken, Mateo fled to Rivain, seeking refuge. A guard had found the man unconscious on their town’s border, dragging him to the healers and the seers for assistance. It was there that Antonia Vidal first encountered him. Congregated with her sisters, the seer saw something within the man that spoke to her. Compassion, both separate and united within her being, witnessed a bright light become enveloped with prickled thorns. This soul was hurting, bleeding, aching… Its cries for help echoed within her mind, and Antonia was frightened by how powerless she felt.

            When the seers spoke of the man’s fate, Antonia had stepped forward before she consciously realized it, offering the man sanctuary in her home. The others tried to deter their leader, but it was to no avail. She knew nothing of the man, but she knew for certain that turning him away was not an option.

            That decision was one of the best that she ever made.

            Together, she and Mateo worked in tandem, a couple which truly left others in awe. Antonia helped Mateo disappear from the Crows, but they were defined by so much more than that. Mateo, astonished and enamored by this powerful matriarch, helped her find her place in the world beyond her duty. And Antonia, stricken and enchanted by this bright spirit, helped Mateo deconstruct those walls that he was forced to create. They helped each other realize their full potential, becoming close friends first and romantic partners later. What resulted of their union was something special.

            Antonia gave Mateo a new home, a new surname. She gave him a new purpose, and he was forever grateful.

            The greatest thing that they gave each other, though, was Reyes.

            And Mateo refused to take that away from her.

            Which is why he is leaving. Some way, somehow, his former House in the Crows caught a whiff of his scent. Embarrassed and slighted, the Crows perceived Mateo’s betrayal as the highest form of treason, his escape a mark against their organization’s “good name.” They refused to let a threat to their authority live for long, no matter how small or how inconsequential. Mateo had been handling the situation well enough on his own, and Antonia had been understanding in letting him attend to this as he saw fit. At least, until recently.

            Unfortunately for the Crows, they made the mistake of targeting Reyes in particular. Trained from an early age in combat, long before his magic manifested, Reyes had managed to hold his own in the ensuing battle. For a while, he thought he would be able to keep them away until help arrived, but it only took one misstep for the experienced assassins to overwhelm him. Both Mateo and Antonia had stormed the scene, but Reyes had already sustained enough injuries for the message to be clear. In the aftermath, he had been teetering on the brink of death, brought there because of the past that still haunts Mateo, because of the skeletons that refuse to remain silent in their graves. The Crows demand retribution.

             They won’t have it, but Mateo cannot remain in Rivain to eliminate this problem, not so long as his presence puts those that he loves at risk.

            When he tells Reyes this weeks later, announcing that he shall leave before dawn, Reyes looks at him as if he is seeing a stranger, as if the very man he idolized turns to ash at that exact moment. He acts as if he wants to say something to his father, mouth opening and closing in bewilderment, but he eventually turns on his heels and leaves, barging straight out of their home. Mateo never felt such searing pain rip through his chest, never felt the weight of another’s disappointment so vividly. Antonia finds him soon enough, crying silent tears while his hand grips his chest, staring at their door while his inner light dims, little by little. Antonia pulls him into her arms, and he welcomes Compassion’s soothing embrace.

            Nighttime rolls around, and Reyes eventually returns. Dinner is usually a welcome event for their family, normally full of laughter and happiness, but Reyes cannot bring himself to skip out on it. Not whenever his mother is surely suffering as much as himself. If anything, she needs them both in this moment.

            That doesn’t stop Reyes from opening his mouth.

            “I can’t believe you,” he whispers, not even touching his food. He pushes his plate away, sick to his stomach, watching his father across the table with a searing gaze. Mateo winces, scowling at his own food.

            “Reyes—” Antonia warns, glowering at her son from the head of their table. He doesn’t heed her warning, however, too busy focusing on Mateo.

            “How can you do this to her? To _us_?” Reyes snarls.

            Antonia’s eyes begin to glow a brilliant white. “Enough—”

            “No,” Mateo interrupts, finally glancing up to make eye contact with his son. “Let him speak his mind.”

            “He needs to respect you,” Antonia says.

            “And he does,” Mateo reminds her gently, expression contorting in pain. He glances towards his wife, reaching out to grasp her hand, clinging onto it as if his life depends on it. “We need to be honest with each other before I leave. We need to get through this.”

            Antonia pauses, casting her eyes aside. Her lower lip trembles, but she must stay strong. For Reyes, for Mateo, for her family... She meets Mateo’s gaze again, squeezing his hand firmly.

            “You are in pain,” she say morosely, the Fade bleeding into her voice. Mateo grins weakly.

            “And you two are as well.” He returns his attention to Reyes. “Rey, we both know that I have to go.”

            Reyes shakes his head stubbornly, gritting his teeth.

            “Don’t make this any harder for me, please. I—” Mateo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. His voice still manages to crack. “I cannot stay, knowing that it will only be a matter of time until they come again. I cannot stay, knowing that they could get to you again, just for the sake of hurting me.”

            “You have trained me. I can take them!” Reyes retorts, hating how the statement falls flat, even to his own ears. He’s denying the unfair reality of their situation. Reyes knows this, yet part of him cannot let go so easily. It refuses to.

            He doesn’t want to believe that life could be so cruel.

            Mateo chuckles wryly, letting go of Antonia’s hand to momentarily rub his palms down his face in frustration.

            He sighs, “It is that arrogance right there that will get you killed, Rey. I might have escaped, but the Crows are not to be underestimated. They almost _killed_ you the first time. Do you know how much that hurts me, hurts _us_? Besides, Antonia and I have been speaking about this since then, and she supports my decision.”

            Reyes looks towards his mother for confirmation. _“_ _¿Mamá?”_

            Antonia grimaces at her son’s betrayed expression, but she remains resolute in her decision. She nods.

            “Mateo is a strong, capable man, _mijo_. Of course it pains me to see him go. After all, none of this is truly his fault.” When Mateo goes to argue, Antonia gives him an icy glare that dares him to challenge her on this, an argument that they have evidently had before. Wisely, he chooses to close his mouth and stay silent. “But I cannot make this choice for him. We have always allowed each other to walk our own paths, and I will not force him to stay. His reasons are his own, and they are sound. The Crows are a true threat to his family, so why should I stop him from protecting us as he sees fit? You, in specifically, _mi sol_.”

            “How can you be so calm about all of this?” Reyes asks her in irritation. She smiles faintly, eyes finally returning to their golden brown.

            “Because I love him, but would it be wrong to say that I love my son more?” she explains. “Your father loves us enough to leave us when it is necessary, to lead the Crows away from here. Not because he wants to, but because —by circumstances beyond his control— he _has_ to. If this prevents me from losing my only child, my only son…” Antonia releases a shaky breath, her body shuddering at the thought. “Well, then I am willing to do anything.”

            “Even if it means losing the man you love?” Reyes counters.

            “Even then,” she answers evenly.

            “I’m not worth it,” Reyes whispers.

            “You might not think so, but you are worth everything to us,” Mateo says. “I love you two more than anything. You know that, Rey. If there was any other choice…”

            “I know,” Reyes sighs, head dropping in defeat. He mumbles to the table, “I know.” He clenches his fists in his lap. “You could _die._ ”

            “We all have to die someday,” Mateo says sorrowfully, “but just let my last night with my family be one to remember. That’s all I ask.” When Reyes doesn’t answer, he continues, “I don’t want our relationship to end like this, Rey. I’m begging you. Don’t let _this_ be how things are left between us.”

            Silence stretches on for one second, two seconds, three…

            Reyes looks up one final time at his father, eyes filled with tears.

            “Fine.” Reyes swallows thickly, pushing past the lump in his throat. “Fine.”

            Dinner continues from there. The Vidals do their best to make Mateo’s last night there memorable, but no one can deny the despair that permeates the room. The evening is a long, bittersweet one, full of memories and pain. Come morning, the entire family is still awake, all huddled around the table. Reyes and Antonia see Mateo off to the door together. Antonia starts to fuss over Mateo’s supplies while Reyes shuffles awkwardly on his feet.

            They each give the man a hug and an ‘I love you’ as a parting gift. Antonia kisses him soundly, tears streaming down her face, and both she and Reyes reassure Mateo that they would look after one another.

            Ironic how, as Reyes watches his father walk away, alive in the flesh, the man might as well already be dead to him.

            The Crows will not be merciful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor baby. T_T
> 
> For those that caught it, yes, that was a reference to Felix's and Alexius' dialogue thrown in there.
> 
> I actually liked writing a Reyes-centric background, but Scott's chapter will be up next. <3
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed, and thanks again for reading!


	3. Goodbyes Part 2/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fifth Blight hits, and Scott says goodbye to normalcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter came out pretty fast for me, but I just absolutely had to write it.
> 
> I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out, but I'm going to say sorry in advance.
> 
> Hope everyone enjoys!

# Goodbyes Part 2/4

**9:30 Dragon**

            Scott Ryder is fourteen when the Fifth Blight hits Ferelden. His entire hometown is consumed by the darkspawn, completely destroyed in the resulting chaos, and their family has only endless roads and hungry nights to look forward to in the following days. They essentially become wanderers during this time, camping and moving, always on the run from the horde. Sara and Scott are talented enough with a sword and a shield, courtesy of Alec’s rigorous training, so they take on the role of protectors until they are able to rendezvous with their father.

            The fact that he leaves the Seekers to find them speaks well enough on its own.

            Although he was somewhat absent during the twins’ upbringing, Alec had always been present enough to leave an impression upon them. He was a hero in their eyes, battling powerful demons and reckless mages, and the tales that he told them always had them screeching in delight during his visits. They would circle around him like starved vultures, yearning for any ounce of affection as most children would, but the man had no problem in indulging them.

            After all, when one knew that his time with loved ones was limited, he tended to take whatever he could get.

            And despite their disdain for family life and romantic entanglements, Alec ignored the Chantry’s whisperings and the Order’s critiques. He had given enough of his life to the Maker and to His people, sacrificed so much to make things work, and his family was his only refuge from it all. Of course, Ellen knew what she was getting into from the start, involving herself with one of the most renowned Seekers, but Alec was nevertheless grateful for her endless patience. She had a thousand and one reasons to severe ties with Alec on multiple occasions, to take her surgical occupation and move elsewhere, but the fact that she remained by his side meant the most to him.

            The fact that she raised their three kids, practically on her own, was a debt that Alec could never repay.

            But he is starting to by doing this, by abandoning the Seekers for the time being. Perhaps forever, if the farewell argument with his comrades was enough to go on. The thing is, Alec is at his end with them. For so long, he gave, and he gave, doing his duty as everyone else did. For so long, he put his duty to the Maker above all else, including the ones that he loves. He missed out on so much, and for what? His faith was now telling him that his family needed him, that others in Ferelden needed him.

            When news spread to him about the Blight, when he received definite confirmation from Ellen, it was as if the Maker Himself had reached down and opened Alec’s eyes to the reality of the situation. He couldn’t simply sit back while his family and others battled those blighted beasts. He couldn’t listen to the Seekers try to justify the need to stay “on course,” as if hunting a bunch of mages was more of a threat than a horde of the damned. Ferelden, his home, was under siege, and he couldn’t simply sit by and do nothing.

            For once, Alec prioritizes his family before the Maker, before the Chantry, before his faith.

            He doesn’t regret a single second of it.

            Alec meets up with them in the weeks to come, setting up camp outside of a village called Lothering, along with several hundred other refugees. He tries not to think about how many of them could be infected, instead focusing on the moment that he spots his family among the roiling masses.

            Sam, now two years old, spots him first. Situated between Scott and Sara, who are both busy watching their mother attend to the wounded, the toddler laughs gleefully and claps his hands together in delight. Before his siblings can question what piqued his interest, the young boy sprints toward Alec, yelling “Papa” along the way.

            Careful of his bad knee, Alec bends down just in time to swoop up his son. Sam squeals again, squirming and kicking in delight. Alec smiles in response to his happiness, which is just as contagious as he remembers, shifting the boy on his hip.

            “Well, now, who are you?” Alec taunts. “I don’t think I recognize you.”

            “Papa…” Sam whines, tilting his weight back playfully. Alec adjusts before the boy can slip out of his grip. “It’s me, Pop-pop. It’s Sam.”

            “What?” Alec questions in exaggerated surprise. “No, that can’t be right. My Sammy isn’t nearly as big and tall as you. You can’t be him.”

            “But I am!” Sam yells. Placing his tiny hands on Alec’s cheeks, he looks his father dead in the eyes, his expression masked in pure seriousness. In all honestly, it turns out looking more like a pout than anything, and Alec has to refrain from laughing, lest he gets scolded by his own son. “I am Sammy, Pop-pop.”

            “There’s only one way to be sure,” Alec replies solemnly, sneaking his free hand into place. His fingers relentlessly attack the toddler’s ribs and neck before he has time to react, tickling him mercilessly.

            The reaction is instantaneous. Sam writhes with a squeal of laughter, wiggling viciously until he manages to escape from his father’s grip. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he darts off back to Ellen and the twins, yelling for his mother to help him along the way. Ellen pulls away once she finishes with her last patient, cleaning off her hands while she turns to address her son. Once she spots Alec, however, she drops the rag that she was holding, bringing her hands up to cover her mouth in excitement. Before anything else can happen, Alec marches the rest of the way through the refugee camp, only stopping when he reaches his wife.

            He pulls her in for a kiss, not even concerned with the audience around them. It has been far too long since he last held her, and every reunion like this makes every day worthwhile. She immediately responds in turn, wrapping her arms around Alec’s shoulders as she throws herself into the kiss. Alec cannot be deterred by the smell of her medical supplies, nor is she deterred by the smell of his long journey. For one single second, all is right between them.

            Until the kids decide to ruin the moment, gagging and cackling behind them. They do it so obnoxiously loud that it’s impossible for the couple’s blissful bubble to remain intact.

            Ellen pulls away first, smiling widely when Alec chases after her with a few lingering kisses. They look into each other’s eyes, foreheads resting against one another.

            “About time you came back to me,” Ellen greets, using the same words that she always does. Alec chuckles.

            “I always come back,” he says, kissing her one last time.

            Another round of gagging starts, and they look at their children, unimpressed.

            “Are you two done being disgustingly in love?” Sara asks, placing her hands on her hips. “Because I think Dad at least owes Scott and I a hug.”

            “Who said that I wanted a hug?” Scott sniffs, causing Alec to roll his eyes.

            He lets go of Ellen and pulls them both into a hug. He definitely doesn’t linger as long as he did with Sam or Ellen, having always been more awkward with expressing his love for the twins, but the gesture is enough for the two older siblings to understand the sentiment.

            Before they can catch up anymore, however, Ellen pulls them all aside to their tent, careful to navigate the growing crowd of refugees. Once they are in the safety of their tent, Ellen affectionately watches while the three children do their best to inform Alec of everything that has happened. The day passes by with the children providing tales and with Alec offering some of his own. As day fades into night, the children all drop off into sleep, one by one. It is only when they are all dozing away that Ellen addresses Alec.

            “We cannot stay here,” she whispers to him abruptly, her voice filled with dread. Alec continues to stroke Sam’s dark brown hair for a long moment, reveling in the peace for as long as humanly possible. Of course, it’s only temporary. Of course, everything must be addressed.

            “What have you found out?” Alec asks. Ellen sighs wearily, wiping the sweat from her brow.

            “Too many of the people that I have treated have signs of the Blight. It’s not going to get better anytime soon. We need to leave Lothering as soon as possible. There is literally nothing we can do to help these people,” she says, sounding all the more frustrated by having to admit it aloud. Alec frowns at her.

            “Then we leave come dawn.” She still scowls, staring angrily at the tent’s walls. “Ellen, you cannot save them all.” Her shoulders droop at that.

            “Yeah,” she huffs. “I know.”

            “I know it doesn’t make things easier—”

            “No, it doesn’t,” she agrees, her voice begging Alec to drop the subject. He purses his lips, considering her for a second before he decides to leave her be. It is clear that her journey has taken a toll on her, that everything has taken a toll on her, and Alec would be the biggest asshole if he didn’t consider her feelings in this situation. Despite how he wishes to help her, she must come to him when she is ready.

            For now…

            “Get some sleep, my love,” Alec tells her gently. “I’ll be keeping watch tonight.”

            “You need to sleep t—”

            “Don’t worry about me,” Alec interrupts. Her worry becomes even more apparent, practically pouring off of her in waves. Alec does his best to reassure her. “I’m not going to be able to sleep, knowing that someone might succumb to the blight overnight.” She still isn’t satisfied. “Tell you what, Ellen. If I get tired, I’ll wake you up for next watch. Deal?”

            She grumbles in annoyance, knowing that this is the best that she’s going to get out of him. For now, at least. It’s obvious to her that he will not wake her up, no matter what the circumstances, because she’s familiar with that stubborn set of his brow, that determined clench of his jaw. Sometimes, people need to realize when to pick their battles, and Ellen is way too exhausted to fight for this one. For now, it’s time for her to rest.

            As soon as her head touches the bedroll, she’s out for the night.

*****

            When Scott awakens, it’s to his father’s face. At first, he believes it’s another dream, or perhaps even a hallucination; however, it only takes a split second for the memories to return. The cricks in his neck and back, accompanied by the unfamiliar noises of nearby strangers, only further jolts him back to the reality at hand. Everything returns to the bleakness surrounding them, and fear clings readily to the air.

            Alec appears confident in his ability to get them out safely, as if he is somehow capable of saving them from the Blight itself, and Scott is young and naïve enough to hope that that is the case.

            “Scott,” Alec whispers, shaking his shoulder slightly. Scott blearily blinks the sleep from his eyes. “Come on. We have to get moving.”

            Now _that_ has Scott alert.

            “Already?” he wonders, sitting up in the cramped tent. There’s not much in the way of height, so he ends up ducking his head in discomfort. Alec merely nods in response, moving on to wake Sara. Scott glances around, noticing the absence of two Ryders in particular. “Where’s Mom and Sam?”

            “Your mother is gathering supplies. Sam’s with her now. She’s trading what she can, and a few people are offering her payment for her services.” Alec moves out of the way as Sara groggily gets up, yawning widely while rubbing her fists into her eyes. Alec shuffles out of the tent, and the twins follow. “I know she would prefer to work for free, especially now, but we shouldn’t deny anything that’s voluntarily offered. We don’t have that luxury right now.”

            “Especially not with Sam around,” Sara agrees. “We need to make sure he has enough to eat and drink.”

            Alec snorts, glancing towards the twins. “Same goes for the two of you.” As soon as everyone exits the tent, he starts packing up their campsite, keeping busy while he speaks. “Things are going to be tight for a while. If your mother and I have to pull back on our own rations—”

            Scott steps forward, shaking his head.

            “Absolutely not,” Scott says, moving in to help Alec. Sara walks away to get their weapons and their bags, listening in. “You and Mom aren’t allowed to compromise your health for us. We all make sure Sammy gets what he needs first, and then we split things equally among ourselves.” Alec raises an eyebrow at Scott, but he continues to listen attentively. “None of us can handle being weak right now, not with all of those monsters on our trail. And, before you argue, you’re literally the only one here with the most combat experience.”

            “Yeah,” Alec sighs, yanking at a rope in aggravation, “fighting mages—”

            “And demons,” Scott adds, bumping his father’s shoulder with his own. “None of us has experience fighting off darkspawn, but at least you have actually seen battle outside of training.”

            “True enough,” Alec chuckles.

            “My point is that we _need_ you right now —all of us— so no offense but please spare us the self-sacrificing bullshit,” Scott snickers companionably. “At least until we’re safe, okay?”

            “Maker,” Alec grumbles, “do _not_ let your mother hear you talking like that. I’ll get my ass handed to me, and I’m not even the one that taught you those words.”

            Scott smirks wickedly. “I’ll do my best.”

            “Ask me why I don’t trust y—” Alec falls silent all of a sudden, staring at the ground intently. Scott tries to ask after him, but he is met with a swift, aggressive shush.

            Alec stands there for a second more, listening, waiting…

            The second that he feels the vibration flow through the ground, there but barely noticeable, he knows that something is wrong. He doesn’t wait for the second tremor before he runs to Sara with Scott trailing behind him.

            “Give me my weapon,” he demands urgently, pulling a sturdy, enchanted sword from the pile of weapons, along with his shield. The twins immediately grab for their own weapons, sharing a weighted glance before turning their wide eyes on their father. He shakes his head at them adamantly. “No, something big is coming from these forests. Scott, go to your mother and your brother. Sara, come with me. If there are any other warriors in this camp, we needed them ready about an hour ago.” When he sees the twins still standing there, paralyzed from fear and shock, he marches towards Scott and shoves him forcefully, those dark eyes already lit with the flames of battle. “Scott, go. Now!”

            That’s all it takes to break Scott from his stupor. Forcibly, he shakes his head to clear it, and he nods resolutely at his father. He throws Sara one last cursory glance, one last nod of acknowledgement, and he sprints into the crowd of refugees. All the while, the ground gradually starts to tremble more, crescendoing until their entire camp erupts into chaos, and a wave of darkspawn descends upon them. What few, scattered warriors there are yell out in outrage, tossing orders around and encouraging their brothers and sisters in arms. There are even fewer rogues present, and there are no mages at all to face what is to come.

            Scott slashes his way through whatever darkspawn gets in his way, calling out for his mother and his brother in increasing degrees of desperation. Heat surges through his veins, and it sears through his skin. The world starts to spin around him, spiraling out of control, but Scott forces himself to focus.

            The only thing that matters is finding his family. The only thing that matters is keeping them safe.

            It is that willpower that drives him. It clears what unknown forces cloud his mind, what unstoppable veil fogs his vision. He uses his anger, his worry, his concern, and he turns it on his enemy. They suffer tenfold under his blade’s fury.

            Darkspawn after darkspawn falls before Scott. The battle sends adrenaline through his body, building and building. Something within Scott is pulling at him. It winds tighter and tighter, and he is helpless to stop it. It won’t slow. It has been suppressed long enough, coiling into a ball that’s been seeking escape for years.

            Sweat beads on his brow, and his legs begin to shake. He reels forward like a young doe taking its steps for the first time, but he doesn’t have the time to hesitate.

            Staggering forward, Scott finally hears her voice, bellowing for him among the sea of people. Everyone, darkspawn and human, starts to mesh together into a dark, writhing mass. Scott forces everything back into focus, just long enough to make his way to her, just long enough to ensure that he doesn’t drown in that wretched sea of blood and blight.

            What he encounters is enough to enrage him.

            Herded against a tree, with nothing but a branch to fight off the darkspawn, Ellen swings viciously at the threes beasts attempting to surround her. Scared and sniffling, whining and whimpering, Sam remains behind her, standing with his hands covering his eyes and his pants soaked with urine.

            Seeing them in danger is enough for that ball to instantly unravel. That string that was taking all of these years to tighten snaps within a second.

            Scott pulls energy from the Fade for the first time, shaping it into something concrete. His hairs stand on end, and the tingle of a storm races along his spine. The atmosphere around them thickens, and he releases that energy with a roar of pain.

            One by one, his targets are engulfed in lightning. A cage of pure energy envelops every one of them, and they seize sporadically until they all fall to their death. Scott does not have the time to question the charred corpses. He does not have the chance to examine his mother’s frightened expression.

            No, he only continues to move, fighting as a warrior.

            And now, a mage.

            After the first spell, his magic grows less focused and more erratic, yet he has enough control to will his attacks towards his enemies and away from his allies.

            Losses are high, yet the waves eventually slacken up enough for the Ryders to reunite.

            And once they reunite, they run.

            And run.

            And run.

            None of them knows how long they travel north, but they eventually have to stop for Sammy’s sake. They find a source of water, and they go to refill their waterskins.

            All except Scott, who sits on the ground stoically, staring at his hands with a blank expression on his face. He feels the eyes on him. He senses their stares. He is no fool. He saw how Sara looked at him, how Sammy still avoids him, and it _hurts._

When he hears a sword being unsheathed, followed by a weak, raspy “no,” Scott does not even budge. Tears gather in his eyes, but he does not falter, even when he feels the sharpened tip of a blade underneath his chin.

            Scott makes the mistake of looking up. His meets his father’s eyes—

            And it’s like they don’t even know each other.

Alec dons the mask because he has to. Every word that he says pierces through both of their hearts.

            It’s hard to believe that, hours ago, they were joking together.

            Now, things have changed, and they cannot turn back.

            “Scott Ryder, you listen, and you listen well. I’ve picked up enough in my time. I’ll help train you to control your magic to the best of my ability.” _I’ll leave the Seekers and everything I have built for you._ “You will listen to every word I say, and you will do what I say when I say it.” _I refuse to put you in the Circle._ “And I swear by the Maker Himself… If you stray, if you put this family in danger, I will kill you myself.” _Even if I love you. Even if, in doing so, I hurt us all._ “Do I make myself clear?”

            Scott searches Alec’s eyes, emotionless yet heartbroken, but his father can only stand there and hope that Scott hears his inner turmoil. He can only hope that his son understands the position he is now in. How quickly they have changed from father and son to warden and prisoner.

            Scott gulps audibly, giving a miniscule nod.

            “I-I understand,” Scott rasps, voice cracking.

            Alec scrutinizes him for a solid second before he pulls his blade away. He strolls back to the river, and Sara releases Ellen, who swears at Alec and Sara before rushing over to Scott.

            She pulls her son into her arms, rocking him back and forth in comfort. For his benefit or for her own, Scott could not tell, but he listens regardless. He listens to her promises of protection, to her declarations of love, and he closes his eyes in contentment, no matter how temporary.

            Ellen doesn’t tell anyone about the scratch on her side.

            She doesn’t tell them how the black spiderwebs are already spreading across her skin.

            The world never looks the same after she dies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I promise the sadness won't last forever.


	4. First Interactions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Reyes come to an understanding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:
> 
> I feel like I need to explain this chapter a bit before my readers get into it.
> 
> 1\. This chapter will obtain quite a bit of my headcanons about Rivain. It will discuss body language and touching in particular, and none of the touching done is meant to be entirely sexual. It is stated or implied, but it is meant to be intimate and spiritual. Rivaini are NOT Andrastian. They believe in a god that correlates with a natural order (I'm simplifying this), so some of Reyes' dialogue is going to reflect that.
> 
> 2\. I also headcanon that, because of their intimacy with magic and spirits, certain Rivaini are sensitive to others' souls, spirits, etc. (this also relates to how they view the world itself). Coming from a long line of seers, this applies to Reyes.
> 
> 3\. There will be discussion of Tattoos & Piercings (again, it is Rivaini culture), but there will also be Nudity. Scott and Reyes do not have sex in this chapter, nor is the ending meant to suggest they are.
> 
> I hope this chapter sits well with everyone!
> 
> (P.S. Any chapters not marked with a year are meant to take place in the Inquisition timeline.)

# First Interactions

            It’s nights like these that really get to Scott.

            In the days to come, travelling side by side, Reyes and Scott become better acquainted with one another. They talk, they joke, they laugh, they flirt… And sometimes Scott summons the courage to reach out and touch Reyes. Not necessarily in a sexual way, but mostly in an intimate one. A brush of the hand here, a pat on the shoulder there… Mostly they happen out of a need for comfort, for companionship. They are a reminder to both men that they are not truly alone anymore.

            And Reyes definitely responds in kind.

            Growing up in Rivain, community was important to the people, and everyone was close in the varying villages. Touch was almost always welcomed among neighbors, and even strangers didn’t mind it in the right circumstances. It was its very own form of communication, one that Reyes was especially familiar with. When he left Rivain, the lack of physical contact definitely took some getting used to, so he was always careful with initiating anything with Scott.

            By any means, he doesn’t want to overstep his bounds, but he cannot deny how sweet it is, watching Scott flounder when he wishes to do something so trivial. On rare occasions, Scott will find his fingers seeking out Reyes’, all shy and curious, or his hand will wander near the small of Reyes’ back, questioning and hesitant. And every time, like clockwork, Scott will try to pull away and apologize, believing that he has offended his fellow traveler. Reyes normally answers through his own body language, taking the initiative to grab Scott’s hand completely or to lean fully into his touch.

            That usually does the trick, silencing Scott long enough so that they can simply enjoy the moment together.

            Reyes does his best to hide his foolish smiles whenever this happens.

            After all, he has a reputation to uphold.

            But even Reyes cannot deny that it is their nighttime talks that are the most intimate between them. They not only affect Scott, but they affect Reyes as well.

            Bathed in the moonlight, basking under the stars, they always end up huddled together in front of their camp’s fire. Some nights the only point of contact is their shoulders, barely brushing against one another, but other nights —the better ones in their opinion— feature them completely wrapped around each other. Some might say that what they do is cuddling, but neither man dares to speak on it. One of them might spout off some silly excuse about it, claiming that it is “necessary for warmth” on the cooler nights, but they prefer not to breach that subject majority of the time.

            Sometimes words are unnecessary. They both understand without having to speak on it, instead focusing on the words and the questions and the answers that actually matter to them.

            Luckily for them, tonight is one of those better nights.

            The area that they chose to camp at is a small beauty, hidden away in Ferelden’s vast wilderness. It is a jewel to be sure. The clearing that they nest in is pretty even ground with fields upon fields of dancing grass, flowing in the breeze. They surround a tiny, gorgeous lake —one that sits still in time, reflecting the world around it. With the moon at its fullest and the stars at their brightest, the lake is like a black, cavernous abyss, lit up only by the diamond-like twinkles from above.

            Reyes and Scott soak in the peace around their fire, their voices not daring to rise above a hushed whisper, lest they destroy the fragile serenity of their newfound sanctuary. Reyes sits upright, stoking the fire every once in a while, and Scott sits snug against his side, head resting on his shoulder and legs entangling with his own. Both speak of nothing and anything, finding their nightly rhythm once again, and Reyes cannot stop thinking about the heat emanating from Scott’s body, from his closeness.

            Curiously, not for the first time, Scott’s fingers trail up over Reyes’ left forearm, sliding the sleeve up ever-so slightly. Reyes pauses in his rambling, looking down to watch the younger man trace over his tattoos.

            He can feel Scott buzzing with questions, so he decides to answer.

            “Want to know about them?” Reyes asks, startling Scott. The younger mage glances up at him apologetically, smiling sheepishly at having interrupted him.

            “You don’t have to tell me,” Scott insists, but Reyes is already pulling away, just enough to rid himself of his leather armor and his flimsy shirt.

            Despite all of the big talk throughout their first encounter, neither man has seen much of the other in terms of nakedness, not even when they stopped and bathed. Although they had formed some type of connection in their time together, they were still new to each other in many ways.

            The fact that Reyes is even taking off his shirt throws Scott off guard, but Reyes must notice because he stops what he is doing, glancing at Scott in question. No, for permission.

            “Do you mind if I—?”

            “N-no!” Scott stutters, voice coming out way too high and way too excited. He looks away, flushing, listening to Reyes’ deep chuckle. He clears his throat and tries again. “I mean, no, you’re fine. It’s fine. I—”

            Reyes halts what he is doing, long enough to put a finger against Scott’s lips.

            “How about you stop while you’re ahead?” Reyes teases, and Scott only nods along with an embarrassed chuckle.

            With a slight smirk gracing his lips, Reyes pulls away and finishes stripping off the layers covering his upper body. Scott watches him, utterly entranced as each piece of skin is revealed. When Reyes is done, an entire canvas of skin and ink is exposed to his eyes, trailing all along Reyes’ left side. Black patterns, composed of harsh slashes and wicked curves, wind their way along the contours of Reyes’ left torso. They decorate his body like they were meant to be there, as natural as a birthmark upon skin. The patterns twist and snare, covering his shoulder, chest, back, and arm. The right side lays completely bare, but the modifications don’t stop there.

            As soon as Scott notices the warm gold, pierced through dusky brown nipples, connected by nothing but a thin chain, he quickly averts his eyes back to the safety of the tattoo. He is not as sly as he hopes, but Reyes says nothing of it, not wishing to scare Scott away so swiftly.

            It is a new experience for Scott, seeing the various piercings that adorn Reyes’ ear and eyebrow. To see someone so boldly display an array of rings and gold upon his hands and wrists, as if it is an everyday feat. It was definitely unusual to discover Reyes’ tongue ring, caught off guard by the foreignness of it all.

            And now, this.

            He never met another that decorated the body so carefully, so eloquently. To do such a thing in Ferelden would definitely gain some nasty looks.

            Scott has to admit, though, the look suits Reyes way more than he cares to admit.

            He returns to his task at hand, tracing the ink that paints beautiful brown skin. A slight gasp escapes parted lips when Reyes leans forward, taking the initiative for once by leaning his forehead against Scott’s, eyes peacefully closed. He moves no further, and Scott wonders if the touch means something specifically in Rivain. Following Reyes’ example, Scott closes his eyes and exists in the moment, his breaths intermingling with his partner’s.

            “Reyes,” he whispers hoarsely, warily. “What—?”

            “Do you like them?” Reyes brusquely interrupts, causing Scott to open his eyes in bewilderment. As soon as he does, he is greeted by Reyes’ piercing gaze, and Scott vaguely wonders how long Reyes has been staring at him, lost in the moment.

            It takes Scott a second to return to himself, and even then he finds his mind sluggish and fuzzy.

            “Oh, uh,” Scott fumbles, ever the conversationalist, “Y-yeah, I like them. A lot. They’re amazing.” Scott forces himself to breathe under the sudden scrutiny, composing himself. “Not a lot of Fereldens have tattoos. Or… piercings. You have a lot.”

            “Not as much as others,” Reyes says quietly, wanting nothing more than to reach up, to cup Scott’s cheek in his hand, to feel the subtle prick of stubble on his skin. Reyes forces a wicked tilt to his voice, shedding the sticky tension with some light flirting. “To think that you haven’t even seen them all.”

            “You have more?” Scott asks incredulously. Reyes shrugs, looking back towards their peaceful lake.

            “Yeah. I have more tattoos that cover my right leg. Believe it or not, they actually have meaning, some known and some not, but most body modifications in Rivain are used to express one’s power, their position, their wealth... Others are used for aesthetic or personal purposes. I have more piercings in… places,” Reyes chuckles.

            It takes Scott some time to comprehend that, cocking his head at Reyes in confusion, not even entertaining the idea that a man would willingly get pierced _there._ Eventually, it clicks somewhere in Scott’s mind, and he gapes at Reyes in disbelief.

            “Seriously?!”

            Reyes laughs at his delayed reaction, his grin illuminated by the fire’s heated glow.

            “Seriously,” Reyes responds, still chuckling to himself.

            Scott sits there, contemplating the other man for quite some time before his brain decides to stick his foot in his mouth. Again.

            “Can I see them?” he says without thinking, wishing that he had kept his big mouth shut the moment the words escaped, but it’s too late now. The offer is out there, and Reyes does not allow a sliver of emotion to slip through his carefully-constructed mask.

            The silence begins to grow overpowering, probably lasting far shorter than Scott’s mind is making it out to be. Scott is about ready to retract his offer and admit his defeat when Reyes turns to him, smiling softly.

            “I’ll allow it,” he finally answers, continuing on before Scott can reply, “but I want you to do the same.”

            “Do what?” Scott asks dumbly, mind still whirling from Reyes’ answer.

            Reyes snickers, “I want you to strip, of course.” When he catches sight of Scott’s wary expression, he withdraws. “You don’t have to. I was merely making a suggestion.”

            “A fair one,” Scott replies, shaking his head at what he was about to do, “but no funny business, alright?”

            Reyes places his hand over his heart. “I’ll be a model gentleman. I promise.”

            “Why do I have a feeling that you’re lying?” Scott tries to joke, but it falls flat when he notices the seriousness behind Reyes’ gaze.

            “About this, I will not,” Reyes says sincerely. “Tell me if I go too far. Say the word, and I will stop.” He looks away vulnerably. “I wish to force myself on no one. Even a man such as myself has some level of decency.”

            Scott swallows thickly, taking in the somber mood. “Then promise that you do the same for me. If I do anything too forward, if I make you uncomfortable in anyway, let me know.”

            Reyes glances back at Scott, heart rejoicing at the concern in those beautiful blue eyes.

            “I promise,” Reyes swears, taking his time to move away from Scott, standing unsteadily on his feet. He does his best to hide how much Scott affects him, but he cannot tell if it is effective enough or not.

            Nevertheless, he begins to shed the rest of his clothing, facing away from Scott and towards the lake. Never has Reyes been so self-conscious of his form, wondering what Scott thought of the patterns on his leg or the gold on his ankles.

            He takes a minute for himself, breathing deeply, in and out, in and out… Reyes hears the rustle of clothing. He hears the articles thud against the ground.

            His knees feel weak. His heart beats strong.

            The touch of a finger caresses his shoulder blade, followed by a hand upon his other shoulder.

            Reyes swears, for a second, that he cannot breathe.

            But, someway, somehow, he forces himself to. To think, to breathe, to turn around…

            And what he sees leaves him speechless.

            Enveloped by the fire’s golden glow, Scott practically lights up the night on his own. Reyes admires his being in its entirety, how a warrior’s powerful muscles move beneath radiant skin, how a man stands before him, scars littering his body with a history of their own. While Scott shuffles uncertainly on his feet, hyperaware of how vulnerable he is, Reyes cannot deny the sheer determination in his eyes. He cannot erase how Scott slightly tilts his chin upwards, proud in his own skin, challenging Reyes with passion in his eyes.

            Reyes takes his time to drink the full image in, just as Scott does in turn. When Reyes eventually reaches out, palm beckoning him forward, Scott doesn’t hesitate to place his hand in Reyes’ own.

            As soon as Reyes tugs him forward, away from the fire and towards the lake, Scott watches as they enter another world, a silver film of light dropping over them both.

            “Come with me,” Reyes croons softly. Scott immediately blushes at the double entendre. Given Reyes’ sly smirk, he knows exactly what he is doing.

            Scott slowly marches forward, inhaling the instant his foot first breaks through the glass of the mirror-like lake. Ripples speed out across the water, running away from their bodies’ invasive motions. They continue in until they are waist-deep in the water. Their feet plunge deep into the lake’s murky floor, and warm sediment oozes between their toes. Scott wiggles them playfully at the ticklish sensation.

            Once he looks up, Reyes’ gaze remains as intimidating as before, searching for something that Scott cannot even begin to comprehend.

            Scott tries his best to act as if this situation is natural between them, as if their dynamic hadn’t changed within a heartbeat.

            “Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he squawks awkwardly, turning away to look at the night sky. He does his best to ignore Reyes’ penetrating stare, but he can still feel it drilling into the side of his face. It’s not as if it is unwelcome, but Scott worries that he is welcoming it all too quickly.

            He honestly doesn’t know what he expected Reyes’ response to be, but he should’ve known by now.

            “Not as beautiful as you,” Reyes murmurs softly, reaching up to cup Scott’s cheek. Scott takes a moment to cherish how those rough callouses scratch against his skin. He admires how the jagged scar on Reyes’ palm drags delicately across his face. Scott is helpless against the emotions surging through him, leaning hungrily into that touch.

            “Leave it to you to make a moment cheesy,” Scott laughs.

            “But you like it,” Reyes accuses, shuffling closer to Scott’s body. Scott falls abruptly silent, and Reyes wraps his arms around Scott’s neck, pulling him in until their chests are but a hair’s width apart. Scott gulps in response.

            “I do,” Scott admits softly, placing his hands on Reyes’ hips.

            “Tell me to stop,” Reyes whispers, “and I will.”

            “No, don’t. I— Don’t stop,” Scott pleads.

            “No sex,” Reyes reminds him. “Just listen. Tell me—” Reyes repeats what he did earlier, leaning his forehead against Scott’s, closing his eyes. This time, their bodies mesh fully together, and Scott whimpers, closing his own. Reyes sighs in contentment, their noses sliding together, lips brushing with every word. “Do you feel it, Scott? How everything is connected?” Reyes nuzzles past his lips and against his cheek, and Scott absolutely melts. “How _we_ are connected?”

            “Yes,” Scott gasps, not wanting to break the spell. He squeezes his eyes tighter, overwhelmed. “Reyes—”

            “Shh… I got you, Scott,” Reyes sighs. “I got you.” Reyes moans softly in Scott’s ear. “Your spirit is so bright, so beautiful. If only you could see it as I do, how it yearns for me, how unworthy it makes me feel…”

            Before he can say another word, Scott maneuvers to capture Reyes’ lips with his own. For a split second, Scott worries that he crossed some unspoken line between them, but Reyes instantly quashes that thought when he reciprocates, throwing himself into the kiss with a passionate fervor. That “connection,” or whatever it was that Reyes mentioned, blossoms into something whole, something _more_. They leave the kiss relatively innocent for now. Neither dares to go further, but that simplicity merely emphasizes the weight behind the gesture.

            Both men understand each other in this moment. Nothing else needs to be said or done in regards to the matter.

            One thing that Scott is certain of is that his earlier thought couldn’t have been more wrong. This wasn’t one of their “better nights.”

            It was one of the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to leave a comment. I'd love to hear what people thought of this chapter. I know that the relationship seems fast paced, so I'm sorry if that's not your thing. I just thought that our boys deserved a good night together. <3
> 
> Anyways, thanks again for reading! Next time I write these two in present day, it will probably be when they reach Haven.


	5. Goodbyes Part 3/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In 9:40 Dragon, the Right of Annulment is ordered against the Circle of Dairsmuid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ:  
> If you have not noticed, I added a warning for Graphic Depictions of Violence, mainly because of this chapter. This is probably my longest chapter yet because I wanted to do the situation justice. This Right of Annulment is referenced in-game (http://dragonage.wikia.com/wiki/Codex_entry:_The_Annulment_at_Dairsmuid), but it is not elaborated upon. Since Reyes is from Rivain, I decided to give an account for this, and I wanted to tell the story as realistically as possible. If the angst or the violence is going to be an issue, please skip this chapter. I will be doing the final Goodbye chapter soon for Scott (which will honestly be better than this in terms of angst), so do not read this if its themes make you uncomfortable.
> 
> For those of you that are gluttons for punishment, I recommend listening to some of the tavern songs (namely "Enchanters") while reading this. That song was a great source of inspiration for this, and I hope you enjoy the update.

# Goodbyes Part 3/4

**9:40 Dragon**

            Anytime that her son comes home is a blessing.

            It has been years since Mateo left, and it has been years since Reyes ventured out on his own, following no later than a year after his father’s departure. Antonia figured that it was foolish to believe that their life in Albarracín could keep Reyes satisfied for long. Without his father around as a buffer, Reyes felt as if he was constantly living under his mother’s shadow, confined to blood rituals and tedious rites, more so than the rest of the male mages were. Traditionally, Rivaini men had no place among the seers, so they were often taught the gift of blood magic, meant to perform the spells that would otherwise cripple a seer’s connection to the Fade.

            It was never used to harm, only to provide. The men used blood magic to perform ancient rituals, many long forgotten to the rest of Thedas, but they only used it during times of meditation and reflection. If used out of context, during moments of passion or of outrage, the punishment by the other villagers was swift yet severe, most likely ending in the offender’s death. Of course, the same was expected when a rogue seer endangered her people, but both of these instances were far and few between. The rest of Thedas didn’t want to acknowledge it, but independence was possible.

            However, even then, even with his freedom and his community intact, Reyes couldn’t bring himself to stay. No one would say it to his face, but he saw the stares that were being thrown his way. He couldn’t even stroll through Albarracín’s marketplace without encountering the pitying looks and the snide remarks. The Vidal family had always been a bloodline thriving with mages. They had always been the group ruling over their tiny village, led by a seer, but now that position was threatened.

            Antonia certainly didn’t have a daughter to speak of, so she had no legitimate heir to claim her position. And with Mateo gone, it was evident that she hasn’t been open to sharing her bed with anyone else. Besides, it had taken her and Mateo _years_ to finally conceive, she always reasoned, so either one or both of them had fertility issues to think of.

            Regardless, it was the Vidals’ “dying destiny” that brought their family great distress. What little of their extended family that lived in Albarracín was trying to be supportive, yet some of them felt the pressure mounting as Antonia grew older. Soon, she would have to step down as the village leader and take on the role of an elder.

            Of course, this led to a lot of disappointment that was unfairly directed at Reyes.

            Many saw him as a missed opportunity, as an unfortunate mistake. If only he was a woman, if only he was what the people needed, but he couldn’t be. He wasn’t, and so they judged him for it. Never outright, but it was blatant enough for him to take the hint.

            Oh, they thought they were sly, whispering behind their hands and sneering behind his back. Unsurprising as it was, the tension between the villagers and himself eventually reached a breaking point.

            When they dared bring his father’s name into it, Reyes knew he had enough. He couldn’t stay, not any longer, and Antonia —bless her heart— supported him the whole way through.

            Coward that he was, Reyes couldn’t even look at his mother the day he left. He couldn’t bear to see the pain and the agony written upon her face. Here she was, losing her son after she had already lost her husband, but Reyes had always been a selfish man. As much as he loved her, he couldn’t stay for her, but he never knew how deeply she understood.

            He didn’t understand that seeing him happy meant more to her than watching him stay.

            Nevertheless, when Antonia asked Reyes if he would one day return, he simply gave her his most charming, wobbly smile and promised her, “Always.”

            As the years passed, Reyes travelled the oceans to his heart’s content, leaving and returning at his own behest. With the years flying by, Antonia Vidal watched as her son slowly became his own person, growing confident in his skin as time progressed. When he happened to be around, he didn’t say much about his newfound profession, so Antonia didn’t pry, although she had her suspicions.

            But their time together was short enough without her fretting. Just as with his father, Antonia valued Reyes’ independence over everything else. He shouldn’t feel pressured to visit more often. He shouldn’t feel guilty for making a name for himself, for doing what he enjoyed...

            No, he was a strong man with a beautiful spirit, and he had to navigate life on his own. He had to live, to make mistakes, to thrive… But he had to do so by himself. Antonia would help when she could or assist when he asked, but she knew where she should draw the line.

            Normally, she wouldn’t have sent word to him so urgently, demanding his presence instead of asking.

            Unfortunately for them both, these weren’t “normal” circumstances any longer.

            The world is falling apart around them, and Thedas is at the center of it all.

            When Reyes finally arrives to Dairsmuid’s Circle, safe and sound, Antonia breathes a clear sigh of relief. Without waiting for an invitation, she marches up to Reyes and drags him into a tight embrace. He chuckles at her enthusiasm, pulling her close.

            “It’s good to see you, my child,” she says, rocking him back and forth in her arms. He squeezes her tightly, reassuring himself that she is fine, breathing in the sweet scent of her hair.

            “It’s good to see you too.” Reyes reluctantly peels her off, keeping his hands on her shoulders for comfort. She places her hands on top of his to sense his spirit, and she smiles serenely when she finds it. Every time Antonia personally searches for it, Reyes’ soul turns in on itself, transforming into something lighter and brighter. It becomes a playful wisp, an echo of a childhood long lost, cupped between gentle hands. “Your letter said that this was important.”

            Antonia nods. “It is.”

            This time, she pulls completely away, gesturing towards Dairsmuid’s small, insignificant Circle. In a place such as Rivain, where Andrastian influence sizzles out as soon as someone steps out of the capital, the Circle is nothing more than a formality that was created solely to keep the royalty appeased. No one, not even their local Templars, takes the Circle seriously. At the least, it serves as a small library and storage unit for the mages in the capital. Although, it’s not unusual to see some apprentices milling about from the local towns, following behind their mentors in hopes of learning their crafts. And at the most, with instances like today, the Circle becomes a meeting ground for the most powerful seers to congregate.

            It does evoke the question…

            “So, why did you call me here?” Reyes asks, walking by Antonia’s side on their way to the entrance. Antonia worriedly places her arm into Reyes’, needing the contact to soothe her tattered nerves.

            “Mainly for support. Most of the seers brought someone to accompany them, and I trust no one else to be at my side for this.”

            “You sound worried,” Reyes notes, eyeing her silently. She scowls and turns her head away, just enough so that Reyes cannot clearly read her expression, but he gets all the information he needs from the tense lines that run through her posture. She’s wound up tight about something, and Reyes’ stomach flutters in worry.

            “With good cause,” Antonia says, sighing gravely. “First Enchanter Rivella called this meeting today, but no one else seemed to know why when I asked.”

            “Is it about the war?”

            “Has to be. There’s no other explanation.” She digs her nails into Reyes’ arm, clinging tightly. She finally looks up into his eyes. “Have you been safe?”

            “Mamá—”

            “Just give me the truth.” Her tone turns cold, and her brown eyes harden. They’re almost at the entrance, and Reyes can see two figures awaiting their arrival. “I need to know. I need to know that I’m not going to lose you forever. I give you enough space, so give me this. Tell me that I’m not going to lose you. Not to this. Not to _them._ I can’t—”

            Reyes interrupts, “I promise you, I’m being careful. Deep breaths.” She takes a few seconds to compose herself, yet her eyes still begin to shine. “Better?”

            “No,” she grumbles, “but I will be.”

            By the time they arrive at the entrance, her eyes have dulled and her breathing has evened. She and Reyes stand tall to greet their friends. Among them is an elven mage and a sole Templar.

            Reyes instantly lets go of Antonia to embrace the dark-skinned elf first, internally balking at her unusual height, as is custom by now. As if reading his thoughts, which Reyes honestly wouldn’t be surprised of by now, the dreamer hugs him tightly, laughing lowly in his ear when she has to bend over to greet him.

            “Reyes,” she greets. “What a pleasure to see you again.”

            “Great seeing you as well, old friend,” Reyes says, pulling back to squint at Keema critically. “Is it me, or did you get taller since we last met?”

            Keema’s responding chuckle is haughty. “You ask me the same question every time, and the answer never changes.”

            Reyes shrugs. “Can’t blame a man for asking.” A beat passes. “How are things in Albarracín?”

            Having met on business, Keema is a close friend that Reyes met throughout his travels. Born and raised on Rivain’s southern isle, Llomerryn, she had fought her way through the tougher, lawless environment, gaining a reputation for herself throughout the years. Like the island itself, she remains a neutral party among a sea of differing opinions, playing the field for herself and her allies. Her greatest work happens out of one of the isle’s most prosperous ports, Kadara, but lately her attention has turned elsewhere.

            Courtesy of Reyes, she was offered a position as Albarracín’s new leader. While Keema would not have considered the position under any other circumstances, never having imagined herself becoming a seer, she owed it to Reyes to make the attempt. When she actually settled down in the village, she became entranced with its people, as they did with her. With her power and her influence, she started working her magic, connecting with worthwhile outsiders and merging with other villages. The town is currently thriving under her command, but she is still not the official leader nor does she want to be, not as long as their dear Antonia is still alive.

            “Oh, it’s been wonderful,” Keema boasts sarcastically, “besides the fact that the elders keep pushing your mother towards an early retirement.”

            “I’m truly surprised,” Reyes grumbles.

            “Keema,” Antonia sighs, shaking her head at her successor, “you’ll have to step up sooner or later.”

            “Then perhaps we’ll go with later,” Keema replies sternly, crossing her arms over her chest. “No need to put you out when you’re still capable of leading.”

            “They’re just excited to have someone with your potential,” Antonia says defensively. “Besides, we both know who has been leading them, and it hasn’t been me.”

            Keema starts to retort, but their other companion decides to make himself known.

            “Oh, look,” he states wryly. “All of these arguing mages surrounding me. It’s like a Templar’s wet dream.”

            Reyes snickers. “Please, not in front of my mother, Kian. Have some class.”

            “As soon as you do, Reyes,” Kian says, taking off his helmet to grin at his friend.

            Kian moves forward first and offers his forearm to Reyes, but Reyes merely sniffs at the formality, clasping it with his own nevertheless. While Reyes usually goes in for a hug, especially since it annoys Kian, the last thing he wants is to feel all of that heavy armor pinching against his skin.

            “It’s good to see you safe, brother,” Reyes says sincerely.

            Kian nods sharply in acknowledgement, arms still clasped tightly. He and Reyes had met long ago after Kian was first given to the Chantry as an orphan. In the beginning, he had never been the best Templar, so his relocation to Rivain’s Circle had occurred at a blessedly young age. It was then that he met Reyes for the first time, and they had grown as friends since. Kian is the only one that knows the extent of what Reyes has been doing over the years, more so than even Keema. Reyes has been pestering Kian to leave behind the Templars and join him, and Kian would be lying if he said that he wasn’t tempted, especially given current events.

            “And you as well,” Kian replies.

            “How’s the situation here?” Reyes asks, glancing from one person to the next. He nearly regrets asking when, as if practiced to perfection, their expressions fall as one.

            Reyes goes to pull away from Kian, but the Templar keeps a hold, waiting until

Reyes meets his gaze.

            “There’s been rumors…” Kian whispers cautiously.

            “Of?”

            “Honestly, I-I don’t know,” Kian says, his face tightening in concern. “There’s so much swirling around. All we know for sure is that the First Enchanter has been stricter than usual. Something is bothering her, but I don’t think that even she knows what it is.”

            “What we do know is that something is coming,” Antonia interjects, stepping forward to place her hand on her son’s shoulder. To comfort herself or him, he could not say. “The Fade is fraught with tension. Some of our assistants have abandoned the Circle, and we don’t know what for.”

            “If even the spirits are fleeing, you would think that an evacuation should be called,” Reyes states.

            “Yes, because that’s just what we need,” a new voice intones, older and wiser than those before. Everyone’s spines stiffen in shock, caught in the act of gossiping. All eyes dart to the newcomer, but she merely smirks at her audience. “To cause a panic when we have no solid reason to. To back down as cowards in our own homes.” The First Enchanter steps from the Circle’s entrance, regally basking in the evening’s setting sun. “If it sets your minds at ease, you should know that our youngest and our eldest have been sent to nearby towns. Those that are capable have been given a choice to leave, as you will be.”

            Kian drops to kneel before the woman, at her service. He crosses his arm across his chest to acknowledge her authority. “First Enchanter Rivella.”

            “Rise, dear boy.” She laughs, but it is hollow. “I’ve practically raised you myself, yet you continue to antagonize me with your formality.”

            Kian smirks smugly at her. “Someone has to keep you on your toes.”

            “You try my patience in doing so,” Rivella quips, but her twinkling eyes betray her. She turns to greet the rest of the group, moving forward to embrace them all. She stops at Reyes, eyeing him critically. “Haven’t seen you in a while, young one.”

            “Same could be said for you,” Reyes says.

            “Fair enough,” she allows, turning to address the others. “Peace be with you, my brothers and sisters. These will be trying days to come.” She waves them forward, leading them into the Circle.

            Immediately, as soon as they step over the threshold, the sweet aroma of incense and elfroot permeates the air, sinking into their pores and transporting them into another world. Apprentices, mages, and spirits alike are all shuffling about in a coordinated pattern, rebelliously living on as if the incoming threat is meaningless to them, as if it is below their concerns. Their routine is one of practice, one of experience, and watching them is like watching the grandest dance at a royal ball.

            To Reyes, it is as breathtaking as ever.

            “As I was saying before,” Rivella says, ducking and weaving through the crowd, “anyone is welcome to leave. I will not hold anyone here against their will, not with so much at stake. I was already informed that you will be departing after dinner, my dear Keema.”

            Reyes glances towards her at that, but she ignores him and answers Rivella.

            “Unfortunately,” Keema replies. “As it is, our lady Antonia is still Albarracín’s representative in these matters. I will need to return to ensure the village operates while she is away.”

            Rivella nods in acquiescence, leading them into her office. There, Knight-Commander Alfaro is pouring over a mountain of documents, his brow wrinkling in concentration. He doesn’t even look up when he hears the others enter, and he scowls over his shoulder when a stray spirit ventures too close. He shoos it off when it tries to gather more information, and Rivella consoles it when it petulantly complains to her about the man. Once the spirit is sent off on another task, content for now, she addresses the man.

            “You’re going to work yourself to death like that, my friend,” Rivella chides him. When he ignores her, she rolls her eyes at him and goes to check his lunch, scowling when she sees his plate is still full. “Have you eaten at all today?”

            “What?” he asks, looking away from his documents to glare at her. When he spots the plate, he grimaces sheepishly, rubbing the tenderness out of his neck. “I didn’t even notice.”

            “Of course not,” Antonia sighs, and Reyes notes how quickly Alfaro’s eyes snap to her. Reyes purses his lips when something vibrant and exuberant alights in the Templar’s eyes. The man stands a bit taller in her presence, as if trying to display his worth.

            Interesting.

            “Antonia—” He nearly trips over himself in an attempt to get to her, bumping his hip into his and Rivella’s desk along the way. Keema and Kian try to hide their laughter behind polite coughs, but Rivella makes her amusement known through a bold, boisterous laugh. Alfaro glowers at Rivella, but Antonia takes his hand between hers affectionately, drawing his attention back to her. “It is a pleasure to see you, as always.”

            “‘As always’?” Reyes mocks, but both Alfaro and Antonia ignore his teasing. Antonia places her hand on Alfaro’s cheek and closes her eyes for a brief moment, seeking his spirit out.

            “As it is to see you, Nicolás,” she says.

            _First name basis?_ Reyes wonders, looking between the two with more understanding than before.

            “If you two don’t mind,” Rivella chimes in, saving Reyes from further contemplation, “I believe that there is business to be had before such idle pleasures. Knight-Captain—” Kian jolts in response, giving the First Enchanter his full attention. “Please see to it that the Knight-Commander and your Templars get something into their stomachs. The mages will be dining before the talks start, and I expect everyone to be at their best.”

            Kian crosses his forearm across his chest, ducking his head in obedience. “Yes, First Enchanter.” He grins slyly at Alfaro, who has taken to glaring at Rivella again. “Come along, sir, we don’t want to keep the others waiting. Now, do we?”

            “Of course not,” Alfaro grumbles, throwing Antonia a longing glance before he and Kian marches out of the room, the sound of their jingling armor following them in their wake.

            Reyes turns to his mother, torn between insulted and amused. “You never told me you had another partner.”

            “Wait, you didn’t know?” Keema asks incredulously. Reyes shakes his head, and Antonia has the decency to look guilty.

            “Not that it’s your business,” she grumbles, “but yes. He has been courting me.”

            Rivella snorts, taking up Alfaro’s position behind the desk, rummaging through their reports. “That’s putting it lightly.”

            Antonia glowers then turns to Reyes, her eyes softening while she fidgets uncertainly. “I didn’t know how you would take it.” Okay, now Reyes is fully insulted, and Antonia seems to sense that, backtracking. “I know how hard it was to say goodbye to your father, and I still love him. I do, but—” Reyes raises his hand, stopping her there.

            “Don’t. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Besides my leaving, have I ever led you to believe that I wanted anything other than your happiness?” When he is met with silence, he smiles at her sadly. “That’s what I thought.”

            “Okay, okay…” Rivella interjects, sensing how distraught her friend was becoming. “Enough of that. Reyes, if you would please, assemble the other mages. I wish to speak with them before we join our Templars for dinner.”

            “Of course,” Reyes says, bowing slightly in respect. On his way out, Reyes pauses just enough to brush his hand against his mother’s, ensuring her that everything was okay. She relaxes after his departure, but neither Keema nor Rivella mentions it.

*****

            After his first night there, Reyes listens to speech after speech being thrown at them, watching as the First Enchanter and the Knight-Commander prepare for as many outcomes as possible, whether it be peaceful or violent, chaotic or neutral. Many among those gathered eventually throw their opinions into the lot, and many simply sit back and listen, spectating from the side. Day after day passes while Reyes grows tenser with each passing second. Few among them leave, and those that do have valid enough reasons in Reyes’ eyes, be it family or loved ones anticipating their return. Others stay because they have to, because they can no longer run away from the injustices befalling their brethren. They are not prisoners by birth. They are not scared. They are not weak.

            In this moment, it is like they are not even mages, a label used to harm and to ostracize. A label that has, for far too long, been used to evoke fear in the common people. It is a label that is used against them, that robs them of their voices, that incites violence against their persons…

            No, in this moment, they are people, fighting for their right to be themselves. To be free.

            Rivain has been free of outside influences for years, capable of functioning on their own. They will not surrender to their would-be oppressors, and they will fight to the last breath.

            However, no matter how much they prepare, they can’t ready themselves for what actually comes.

            It is about a week, give or take, after Reyes’ arrival when they arrive. It is during their afternoon rituals when their guests enter, unannounced, interrupting their peace.

            Knight-Commander Alfaro and First Enchanter Rivella step forward to greet their guests. Dairsmuid’s small band of Templars stands behind them in formation, and behind them stand the mages and their apprentices, huddled together stoically.

            Before them, there is a woman, leading five or so others, and Reyes instantly recognizes the symbol on their chests.

            Seekers.

            Looks like their day just went from bad to worse.

            Sharp, icy eyes scan the area, appraising those that have gathered while an army of Templars filter in behind the lead Seeker. When the woman finally speaks, her disembodied voice sends shivers down Reyes’ spine.

            “Knight-Commander Alfaro, tell me, what is the meaning of all this?” she demands, gesturing at the Circle around her. Alfaro stares but says nothing, letting the situation speak for itself. That only fuels the Seeker’s ire. “No matter. We’ve seen enough on our way here.” The Seeker spits, disgusted. “Mages walking freely, visiting their families, possessing their women… And you have the gall to stand by and let these apostates continue on as they do.”

            “How funny it is that you believe that you have any power here,” Rivella sneers, “as if anyone has the right to ‘let’ us be ourselves.”

            “I was not talking to you, you filthy witch,” the Seeker says, not even looking at the woman in question. All of the mages were little more than pests to this woman, nothing more than something to be stomped on and killed. For her, their presence no longer mattered.

            “Name-calling? How mature of you, Seeker, but of course you appear to know nothing of the sort,” Rivella states, refusing to be outed in her own home. Her eyes begin to glow white, but she tampers her urges down for now. It would not do to lose control. “How easily some of you would destroy an entire culture, all because you do not understand it. How utterly ignorant and spiteful you are raised to be, believing that you are superior to us because your precious Chantry says it is so.”

            “Enough!” the Seeker snarls, finally acknowledging Rivella with a split-second glance. The Seeker pulls a parchment out for all to see, approaching Alfaro to deliver the message. He meets her half-way, not wanting the stern woman too close to any of his charges.

            He snatches the parchment away from her grasp, unravelling it quickly to skim its contents.

            What he finds is worse than what they had anticipated.

            The Seeker stares him down, watching him flounder in silence.

            “Knight-Commander, give the order,” she commands.

            Alfaro stares blankly at her, stepping back to his brothers, to his sisters. Once, twice… On and on, until he is at Rivella’s side again. He crumbles the order in his hand.

            “No,” he says, his voice ringing throughout the hall.

            Silence.

            Silence all around.

            “No?” the Seeker asks skeptically, as if she did not hear correctly the first time.

            “Did I stutter?” Alfaro questions, ensuring that his message is blunt enough in its delivery so that no one can mistake his intentions. He picks up the parchment for all to see, shredding it in clear sight. “I.” _Shripp…_ “Said.” _Shripp…_ “ _No.” Shripp…_ Alfaro points to his crowd, scraps of paper in hand. “These are _our_ charges, and they have harmed no one in their practices for all the years that I have been here. Our duty is to protect these mages, and I will die in doing so. So, here—” He holds his hand out, letting all of the pieces flutter to the ground, like ashes falling from the sky. “—your order isn’t worth my time, Seeker.”

            The Templars before him gape at his audacity, faltering under his boldness, but the Seekers remain eerily calm, despite the rage roiling within them.

            “You try my patience,” their leader snaps.

            “As do you,” Alfaro retorts. First Enchanter Revilla stands beside him, beaming in pride.

            “I do not want to do this,” the Seeker sighs, although Reyes highly doubts her sincerity at this point. The leader turns to the other Rivaini Templars, discounting their Commander as a lost cause. “You are our brothers, our sisters… Do not force our hand in this.”

            “It is you that has done so,” Alfaro snarls, refusing to let her address his soldiers anymore. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” He turns to address his brethren, nodding at Kian. The Knight-Captain nods in return, solemn and subdued. “Templars, shields ready!”

            “You heard him. Shields ready!” Kian echoes. All of them drop into stance at once, letting out a war cry in unison.

            The Seeker seems to catch on to the seriousness of the situation, her eyes widening in bewilderment. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You will put these apostates before your own—”

            “Templars, to arms!” Alfaro commands, unsheathing his sword. Again, Kian echoes the order, and the sound of metal on metal slices through the air.

            Rivella moves forward, taking control, and she shouts over the sudden stirring, raising her staff high as she addresses her followers.

            “Mages, wield your staves,” she demands, her eyes glowing with the presence of Valor. “Protect your allies.” She turns to address the Seeker, displaying fully how much of an “abomination” she is. When she speaks, her voice carries a weight that ripples throughout this world and the next. “We will not stand down.”

            The world stopped within that moment.

            And it fell apart within the next.

            “Then so be it,” the Seeker says, her army falling into step. “Maker have mercy on your souls, for I will not.” The last of her men draw their weapons, and Reyes feels his mother’s hand upon his own, squeezing briefly before drawing away. This time, there is no comfort. Only acceptance. Reyes’ attention is only drawn away by the Seeker’s next command. “By the order of the Chantry, Knight-Commander, you have been relieved of your duties. From this moment, let it be known that the Right of Annulment is enacted for the city of Dairsmuid. This Circle is to be purged. _Immediately.”_

            With that, Rivella is the first to charge, always the bravest of them all. It only takes the action of one for the chaos to spread like a wildfire, consuming them all. Their visitors are ruthless in their pursuit, killing one and all, no matter the consequences.

            But they don’t stop there.

            Their wrath rains down upon the Circle. They mean to destroy these people, to see their entire world burned to the ground in ruins. They break and they smash, ruining their artifacts, burning their books, slaughtering their apprentices… Even as outnumbered as they are, the Circle’s people give as good as they get, fighting a losing battle, maneuvering strategically to take out as many invaders as possible.

            It takes one mistake for the house of cards to come tumbling down.

            Reyes should have spotted him. He should have been aware of that Seeker sneaking up behind him, but he had been so blinded by rage, by fury. His entire vision was submerged in the red of battle, and the screams of death clawed at his ears.

            He unsheathes his knife out of desperation, poising it over his palm. He hesitates…

            Long enough for the lyrium in his blood to spark to life.

            Reyes cannot even scream when it happens. He cannot even fall, nor can he beg for mercy, speechless as he is. There he stands in the middle of battle, paralyzed while agony sears through his veins. White-hot sensations cause his body to spasm uncontrollably, and it is as if he is being burned alive, his skin being stripped away, piece by piece. Every single nerve sings to life, overwhelming his senses, and crystals start to pierce through him, breaking open his skin.

            He’s choking.

            He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe…

            The Seeker readies his sword to run Reyes through, and Reyes summons the strength to close his eyes, ready to die.

            He hears the slide of metal through flesh.

            But he feels no pain.

            Reyes drops at that point, freed from his temporary torture, and he starts gagging and coughing at the ground. Trembling, shaking, bracing himself on hands and knees, Reyes manages to look up, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth.

            His ears start ringing, and his vision blurs. He doesn’t even hear himself scream. He doesn’t hear the noise he makes, the broken wail of a lost child.

            Antonia stands before him, facing down his should-be killer, with a sword piercing through her abdomen, blood gradually soaking the fabric around it. She holds on to the Seeker with a vice-like grip, refusing to let go, her voice speaking with the authority of the Fade.

            “You c-cannot have him,” she snarls, pulling the Seeker closer to her, sliding his sword further through.

            A shining glint catches Reyes’ eye, and the Seeker does not have time to react, to turn his powers on Antonia, before her free hand darts up. With all of the might in the universe, she stabs a dagger in between helmet and chest plate, striking at the weak point with the ferocity of a snake. She sinks the fang in deep, twisting and turning, and pulls it out to watch the Seeker release her. He stumbles back with a lone gurgle, clutching at his jugular desperately before he dies.

            Antonia falls then, dagger slipping free from her bloody grasp, and Reyes awkwardly scrambles forward, still unable to do more than crawl. He clutches at his mother’s limp body, crying noisily.

            “No, no, no…” he whispers frantically, shakily pulling the sword out to begin healing her wound. Reyes feels his mana depleting quickly at that, and he begins pulling from his own life force soon after, even though —deep down— he knows that she’s too far gone.

            Around them, the battle rages on, so he builds a wall of fire around themselves, not caring for the pain that his magic is causing.

            He feels a hand on his cheek.

            “Reyes, stop.”

            He shakes his head, tears streaming down his face.

            “Reyes,” she pleads, and he knows that he cannot deny her anything. He cannot deny the way her dimming spirit only reaches for his in her last moments.

            He meets her eyes, and he swipes at the blood accumulating around her mouth, only serving to make it worse.

            Antonia grabs at his hand, thumbing at the scar on his palm. Reyes feels his shame leaking through, knowing that she had noticed him, about to resort to using blood magic in a moment of weakness. She smiles blearily at him.

            “The s-second you l-let them change you is t-the second they win,” she stammers painfully, wheezing between wet coughs. Reyes watches her helplessly, unable to speak, but she can still feel the turmoil knotting under his skin. “D-don’t let them win.”

            “Tell me I won’t lose you,” Reyes begs, eyes blurring to the point that he cannot see her. He doesn’t want to remember her like this, not now, not ever.

            He doesn’t see her loving smile, but he feels her hand over his heart. The organ beats and pounds beneath her fingers, as if trying to get close, but never getting close enough.

            “Y-you won’t,” she promises, “because y-your father and I will live through you, as it was m-meant to be. _N-never_ forget that, my beautiful k-king.” She gasps wetly, sobbing on her last breaths. “I-I love you.”

            As soon as those words pass her lips, she falls completely limp within Reyes’ grasp. He blinks the tears away to see her eyes wide-open and her mouth parted, gaping unseeingly at the barrier of fire around them. Reyes weeps, setting her body down and closing her eyes.

            Once he stands, dissipating the fire around him, he turns to the battle with new eyes. He picks up his mother’s dagger and twirls it in his weaker hand, swiping up his own with his dominant one. He has no more time to rely on his magic, so he sets to work on clearing himself a path, reuniting with the others long enough to retreat to another hall, barricading themselves in.

            There aren’t many of them left by then, no more than five or seven, excluding Reyes and the others. When Alfaro and Rivella approach him, Reyes braces himself for the worse.

            “Where’s Antonia?” Alfaro questions, looking around the group for her, double and then triple checking for her presence. Rivella stands stiffly beside him, placing a hand upon his shoulder, but he shakes her off, glaring at her in denial. He glances back towards Reyes, seeking out answers, but Reyes tells him nothing, staring silently back. Alfaro grabs at his shoulder, shaking him roughly, but Kian interjects, standing between them. “Tell me where she is!”

            “She’s dead,” Reyes snarls, jumping abruptly to his feet. “Is that what you want to hear? That the woman you love died so that I can live? Is that what you want?”

            Alfaro seethes, takes a step towards Reyes threateningly, but Kian is there again, sword ready to strike the killing blow. Slowly but surely, Alfaro comes to himself, standing down with shame pouring through him. He crouches down, burying his face into his hands, and Reyes turns away from the sight, no longer wanting to be there.

            Rivella claps her hands loudly to gather everyone’s attention. Despite the rising tensions, the Templars are close to breaking through, and time is of the essence.

            “Brothers and sisters before me, it has truly been an honor,” Rivella announces, glancing around at each and every one of them, “but now the time has come for us to part ways.” Murmurs erupt, but she raises a hand. Silence falls. “If we had made it here earlier, as was planned, we could have saved many others, but we had not fully prepared for the extent of brutality witnessed here today.” Rivella closes her eyes in mourning, taking a deep breath before continuing. “We have lost many, and we —not just us, but the mages of Thedas— will lose many more in the days to come. Parents, children, spouses, family… None of us knows when it will end, but you lot can escape. Save yourselves, return to your loved ones, and tell the people of the grave injustice that has happened here today. No more will the mages submit to this cruelty. No more.”

            “No more,” they whisper in unison.

            Rivella nods. “Then go. Let Rivain know what has occurred. Let the entire world know.” She turns to Kian. “Knight-Captain, I assume the Commander has shown you our escape route.” Kian nods. “Then lead your charges. Protect them with your life.”

            “Of course,” he whispers, breaking through to embrace his mother figure. She embraces him as well, handing him a letter with a few murmured words. He nods one final time, throws Reyes a meaningful glance, and tells the others to move out.

            Reyes stands, eyeing them.

            “You better go too,” Alfaro states, standing slowly. Reyes goes to argue, but Rivella cuts him off.

            “Don’t. You’re young, boy, and you have so much to live for,” Rivella says, chastising him. “Don’t let your mother’s sacrifice be in vain. She wouldn’t want your story to end here, and you know that.”

            “They need to pay for what they’ve done,” Reyes snaps, but Rivella stands taller, unintimidated.

            “Then make them pay. Get your revenge by living.”

            “And make sure that every one of these bastards die by your blade,” Alfaro says.

            Reyes glances between them, stepping back in surrender.

            “You could escape,” Reyes points out, but both of them are already shaking their heads.

            “Now, Reyes—” Rivella laughs bleakly. “—you, of all people, should know that a Captain only goes down with their ship.” She winks at him conspiratorially, and Reyes cannot subdue his choked-off laugh, hysterically wondering when and how she found out. “Now go.”

            Reyes hesitates for a second and then nods, retreating to where the others escaped, sealing off their exit before he runs to catch up.

            Rivella and Alfaro rest within the Circle, listening while it shudders and shakes on its foundations. They exchange a worn smile, clasping forearms in farewell.

            “It has been an honor, Knight-Commander.”

            “The honor has been mine.”

            The barricades break, and the doors fly open one final time.

*****

            Word spreads fast in the days to come, and a funeral service is held the night when Kian and Reyes finally arrive in Albarracín. Keema is ceremonially initiated as the village’s leading seer, and her first act is to perform the Rites of Passing for those that have fallen.

            The entire population gathers at the town’s center throughout the evening, and each individual comes bearing a candle for their vigil. As per tradition, Antonia’s family and the relatives of those that were lost remain in the very center of the crowd, surrounded by all other villagers in this time of sorrow.

            As soon as the sun sets, colorful skies turning dark in their dismay, Keema leads them off with a dirge of mourning. Other voices soon follow, first from the elders, then from the crowd, and lastly from the spirits. Cries of pain and wails of loss spark from all sides, rising and falling along with the song, riding waves upon waves as verse upon verse is delivered. In the middle of it all, Reyes stands among the crowd, there but not, floating in a place far away from this cruel world. He does not wish to linger on the hand that he has been dealt, so he goes elsewhere for the time being, empty yet full.

            He stiffly goes through the motions, not paying attention to a thing that is said —something about unity, and something about how all of Rivain is united in their grief tonight. To show that that sense of unity is present, Keema lights her candle first, passing her flame on to the elders, who then pass theirs on to the crowd. Slowly but surely, each flame makes its way around, each one united by the fact that it is born from the same one. It is meant to be symbolic, stating that they are all together in their grief, but Reyes…

            Reyes cannot believe that.

            When the flame makes its way to him, he lights his only long enough to pass it on.

            Once the next person has their candle properly lit, Reyes uses his fingers to extinguish his own, ignoring the scathing looks around him.

            Dropping his darkened candle to the ground, he turns around and shoulders his way through the crowd. Kian darts after him, but Reyes is already gone, clinging to the shadows where he belongs.

            Reyes sees the world more clearly after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading...


	6. Goodbyes Part 4/4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott decides to join the Inquisition, but he must say goodbye to his loved ones first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter, but I'm satisfied with it. :)
> 
> Enjoy! <3

# Goodbyes Part 4/4

            When word about what happened at Haven finally reaches them, they are staying outside of some random village, resupplying their stocks and exploring the location. Scott knows that it is only temporary. It is always a temporary stay, no matter where they go, but this news makes him stop short. Thousands killed within a moment, and no one is doing anything to stop the world from falling apart.

            No one but the Inquisition, it seems.

            Scott knows that he could put his skills to good use, that he could finally escape from his father’s clutches in search for a nobler purpose. He doesn’t have to be constrained any longer.

            It isn’t long before more rumors circulate. Rumors of mages and apostates within the Inquisition’s ranks. Rumors of a Dalish mage being uplifted as their Herald. Rumors that they plan to fight the Breach with the rebellion at their side. These rumors earn the Inquisition no friends and no allies among those who whisper them, sneering viciously at this Inquisition’s arrogance, as if the world needed or wanted their help.

            Of course, they are but rumors, but Scott allows himself to naively hope. He hopes, and he dreams. He dreams of a day when he could return to his home with his family, when he could stop being a burden on them, when they could all stop running and just —just _settle._

            When Scott brings up this issue at dinner that night, sequestered away in their campsite on the outskirts of the village, his father’s answer is as expected.

            A deep and resounding “no.”

            Scott stares blankly at him for a weighted second, and Sara glances nervously between them. Sam distractedly picks at his food, having grown accustomed to similar arguments over the years, paying the others no mind.

            Scott stammers for a full second, searching for the right words, when he feels a deep, unsated fury sinking its claws into his gut.

            He bolts upright from where he is seated, slinging his portions on the ground. Ignoring Sara’s hissed warnings, he shoves a finger in his father’s direction, and he says the words that has been building up ever since his mother’s death.

            The feel of his father’s sword underneath his chin still resonates with Scott today, but Scott is no longer that frightened kid. He is no longer weak.

            “Fuck. _You,_ ” Scott snarls.

            One could hear a pin drop in that forest, and Scott even wonders for a second if the wildlife chose that very moment to stop their nightly song, listening in to see what would happen. Sara and Sam both gawk at him, and Sara starts mouthing at Scott to get it together.

            Scott ignores her, staring resolutely at their father, even when the man stands before him, sneering down at his eldest son.

            “Excuse me,” Alec says, laughing darkly in disbelief. He steps forward into Scott’s space, shoving a finger into his chest, but Scott does not falter. Not even for a second. “You want to run that by me again, boy?”

            “You heard me,” Scott states, shaking his head at his father, never once breaking eye contact. “Why are we still doing this, Dad? Huh?”

            “Doing what?” Alec snaps.

            Scott throws his hands out, laughing hysterically. “ _This,_ Dad _this!_ Why are you still putting your family through the same shit when we know who the real problem is?!”

            “Scott, st—”

            “No.” Scott vigorously shakes his head, refusing to stop now. This had to be thrown out into the open. They need to own up to the truth. “No. No more being quiet. We all know the problem is me, so why won’t anyone say a damned thing about it?”

            “Scott—” Sara whispers sadly. Sam is looking down at his fingers, fiddling with them in silence.

            Scott turns to his sister, and he grins bleakly at her. “Sara, don’t. Don’t act as if you and Dad haven’t argued about this, about me, before.” When Sara guiltily glances away, Scott sighs. “I don’t blame you for feeling the way that you have, Sara. No one—” Scott looks towards Alec. “—should have to sacrifice a normal life for another.”

            “You don’t get it, do you?” Alec snaps. “You don’t get it at all, Scott. You aren’t some stranger to be tossed aside. You are my son, and we are family. We will stick together through this—”

            “For how long?!” Scott interrupts, clenching and unclenching his fists. “How long does Sara and Sam have to suffer for something that isn’t their fault, always on the run and never finding a home? How long does this have to continue for you to finally understand?”

            “There is nothing to understand,” Alec says, gathering up his things for the night, “and my decision is final.”

            “As is mine,” Scott retorts. Alec turns to glare at his son over his shoulder, but he only receives an equally harsh one in return. Scott crosses his arms over his chest, tired of this same old conversation. “I’m finished with letting you dictate my life. I can control my magic. We know that that isn’t the problem any longer, but please —if you must—” Scott dramatically spreads his arms out wide, welcoming anything and everything. “—go ahead and kill me now. Because I’m checking out the Inquisition, whether you like it or not!”

            Alec continues on to his tent, waving goodnight over his shoulder, as if he didn’t hear a word that Scott said.

            “See you in the morning,” he says.

            Scott gapes at his retreating figure, feeling static sparks tickling against his fingertips. He allows them to fizzle out before he turns to the others. They both curiously search his expression, as if trying to read his mind.

            Surprisingly, it’s Sam that speaks up first.

            “Do you truly plan on leaving?” Sam whispers.

            Warily, Scott sits down next to his brother, staring into the crackling flames before them, watching the fire pop and dance to its own rhythm, permeating the air in a musky smoke. He nods in affirmation, and his siblings are quiet for a few moments, lost to their own thoughts.

            Scott feels the need to explain.

            “I can’t keep doing this to you guys,” Scott whispers. “Sam, you’ve never even had a home. You never had the chance. At first, we could blame it on the Blight all we wanted, but now—” Scott picks up a nearby twig, snapping it in half and throwing it into the flames. “Now, it’s all on me.”

            “Scott,” Sara sighs, huffing in frustration. At her dad, at her brother, at herself… “Those things that you heard me say—”

            “Are true,” Scott interrupts, throwing the last piece in. “They’re all true. Look at us. You two aren’t even apostates, but you’re forced to live like it because of _my_ circumstances. That isn’t right, and Dad knows that.” Scott focuses in on his sister. “Look me in the eye, Sara, and tell me that you don’t miss having a home.” When she doesn’t reply, Scott snorts in victory, returning to his previous task of finding twigs. “That’s what I thought.”

            “But Dad was right,” Sam murmurs, leaning on his brother’s shoulder. “You’re family. We want to be there for you.”

            “Even if I don’t want you to be?” Scott asks. He feels Sam droop against him in rejection and instantly feels like shit. Scott wraps an arm around Sam’s shoulder, hugging him close. “Not like that, Sammy. It’s just that I need to be able to go out into the world on my own. I don’t want to keep dragging this family down for my benefit. You should be in a stable place, learning about all of that stupid magical theory stuff you get into.” Sam chuckles, nudging Scott off of his shoulder.

            “You only think it’s stupid because you’re a mage, and even you can’t understand it,” Sam jokes.

            “Hey,” Scott laughs, bringing his hands up in surrender, “I’m not denying it.”

            “In your defense, though,” Sara says, joining in with a bright, teasing smile, “I’m definitely smarter than you, Scott, and I still don’t understand what Sam is saying half of the time.”

            “While your intellect is debatable,” Scott says, sticking his tongue out at his twin, to which she responds by flipping him off. “The problem remains… Sam, haven’t you ever thought about what it would be like to go formally learn under a professor? I mean, not just the magical stuff, but _everything_. You’re obviously smart enough to do it.”

            “Please, smart doesn’t even cover it,” Sara says, staring proudly at her baby brother. “The kid’s a prodigy.”

            “Alright, can we not?” Sam sighs. “Besides, we’re talking about you, Scott, not me.”

            “I know, but I stand by my position, Sammy. I think, right now at least, the Inquisition thing might be what’s best for me.”

             Sam pauses, considering. He glances to Sara.

            “Where will we even go?” he asks.

            She shrugs, leaning back to look at the night sky, its stars glittering like the most precious jewels.

            “Let me guess,” Scott says. “Alcott?”

            Sara purses her lips, nodding after a moment. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking. If Dad even considers it...”

            “Where’s Alcott?” Sam questions.

            “It’s a small farming village in the Hinterlands,” Sara explains, smiling at the memories that come rushing back. “It’s where Mom raised us, even you to some extent. We stayed there until the Blight came.” Sara’s eyes darken, glassy and wistful, immersed in a time that felt like a lifetime ago. Hard to believe that millennia haven’t passed since then. “I wonder what remains of it.”

            _Probably nothing,_ Scott thinks, keeping the thought to himself. He understands why Sara wishes to go back, even if it is just to confirm the village’s destruction, so he will let her cling to her hopes, just as he is doing now.

            The siblings return to their conversation, bouncing ideas and memories off of one another, eventually moving on to lighter topics. They smile and they laugh the night away, and Scott eventually goes to his bag, pulling out the lute that Sara had gotten him for his sixteenth birthday. Plucking experimentally at the strings, he plays some slow, soothing songs while their conversations ebb and flow.

            One by one, Sam falls asleep first, swiftly followed by Sara soon after. They both retreat to their tents, yawning with a weary “goodnight,” and Scott watches them go, plucking at the strings long after their departure.

            It is only when the moon is at its highest does Scott set to work, gathering his bag and his staff. He packs only the essentials that he will need to survive on, no more and no less. Food, shelter, clothing, and a few coins to last him long enough to make his own path.

            As soon as he draws his bag closed, he stands up…

            And instantly bumps into his father’s form.

            He stares at Scott, cold and silent, and it is then that all of Scott’s energy is drained from his body.

            He doesn’t want to argue. Not now.

            Not when he has to say goodbye.

            “Dad—” Scott starts, but his father holds his hand up, silencing his son for the time being.

            “Don’t,” Alec says, sighing while he rubs his hands down in face in aggravation. Not at Scott, but at himself. “Just listen, okay?” When Scott says nothing in reply, Alec takes that as his cue, knowing that he needs to get everything out there before Scott decides that he is wasting his time. “I’ve tried for so long to keep you safe, to keep this family together—”

            “And you have,” Scott admits, incapable of taking that accomplishment away from the man, but Alec isn’t looking for praise.

            In all honesty, he doesn’t know what he’s looking for.

            “I—” Alec grunts, running his fingers through his graying hair. He never has been good at stuff like this, and he still isn’t. “I know, but I also gave up everything to make sure that no one ever took you away. Not from this family, your siblings, your mother…” Alec knew he couldn’t hold back. As tough as it was for him to admit these things, he couldn’t hold back, not with Scott’s future on the line. “Or me. Just letting you know, if given the chance, I would give it all up again.”

            “You had to know that this day would come,” Scott whispers sorrowfully. Alec nods in full agreement.

            “Of course.” Alec laughs bleakly, speaking from experience. “Because you cannot keep a person on a leash. They’ll pull, and they’ll pull. And eventually, the leash will break.” Alec swallows thickly, vulnerable. “I tried so hard to keep you here because, of all people, I know more than anyone what is waiting for you out there. Out there, your people are dying at the hand of my people. There is no ‘us’ for you, Scott. Oh, I want to believe there is, but what I believe doesn’t matter anymore. If you follow through with this, _when_ you follow through with this, there will only be a ‘you’ versus a ‘them,’ and they outnumber your lot too much for me to even think about right now.”

            Scott finally falters, heart breaking at the sight of seeing his father so distressed, but he knows what he has to do. Not only for himself, but for their family as well.

            “You know I can’t stay,” Scott whispers, his voice honed with finality.

            Alec nods, not expecting anything else.

            “Then, here,” Alec says, rushing to get his sword and his shield. He holds them out to Scott, but his son makes no move to retrieve them, balking in bewilderment. “Please, for my sanity, take it. Take this piece of us to go with you and to keep you safe. I know you wish to make a statement as a mage, but we both know that you are more than that. You are a person. You are a Ryder, and —if this is the only assistance I can offer you— then so be it.”

            With that, it’s impossible for Scott to reject the offering. He takes his father’s shield and his sword, shuffling awkwardly to figure out where to put them. Once he has them safely tucked away, he nods at his father.

            “Thank you,” Scott says.

            “Don’t thank me yet,” Alec sighs, waving the matter off. “Make it out of this war alive, then come to thank me.”

            “You know I can’t promise you that.”

            “Then lie,” Alec says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Because I can’t lose you too.” He doesn’t give Scott a chance to argue before he is yanking him into a hug. It is a quick one, there and over before Scott has the ability to properly respond. Alec coughs awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Well, I guess this is it.”

            “I guess so,” Scott whispers.

            “Goodbye, Scott,” Alec says, returning to his tent. He stops only when he pulls the flap back, glancing at his son with emotions warring in his eyes. He opens his mouth and closes it several times, eventually finding the words to say. “And, for what it’s worth, your mother would have been proud.”

            With that, he enters his tent, leaving Scott to watch after him in the darkness, frozen within the night.

            Scott soon returns to himself, smiling forlornly at himself while he thinks on the bittersweet moment. He looks around the camp one final time, leaving his family behind with a last, whispered “goodbye.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last part of the Goodbye chapters (and the last of the majority of the angst), so we're on to Scott and Reyes arriving at Haven next time.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Reyes skirt around each other.
> 
> Until they don't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I might have unintentionally lied. xD Haven isn't in this chapter, but it will be in the next! (Hopefully...) All I know is that my classes start back tomorrow, I couldn't get this chapter idea out of my head, and I wanted to take advantage of having today off by writing.
> 
> So Happy Valentines Day! Hope you enjoy. <3
> 
> P.S. There's a minor blood magic moment in this chapter, but it's really harmless.

# First Time

            They are about half a day away from Haven when they decide to make camp for the last time. Dramatic as always, Reyes complains the entire time they work on unloading their supplies, grumbling under his breath about the cold and the snow and the hike. Scott indulges his companion with a tiny, affectionate smile, gathering firewood while Reyes babbles on.

            Truly, the man can be so spoiled at times, or perhaps it’s just a thing with Scott around, watching Reyes try his best to keep up his elusive front while always failing to do so. Scott thinks it’s adorable how this man can be so confident and cocksure one second, then become so timid and disheveled the next. All it takes is some random praise or some passing compliment to have the man beside himself in glee, gaping in disbelief. Those are usually the moments when Reyes brushes him off, flustered and frustrated, but Scott can see how the man tries to hide his true reactions. He’s not blind, after all.

            Nevertheless, Reyes continues to dance around the matter in his own way. Sometimes it’s like he’s restraining himself, but most of the time he acts almost insatiable. Ever since their night at the lake, Reyes toes the line between being completely touch-starved and being utterly reclusive. Scott’s mind still reels from the mixed signals, but he respects Reyes enough to give the man his space, allowing him to come to whatever conclusion on his own.

            Scott is finishing up setting out snares and wards around their camp when he turns around. Snow and dirt cling to his hands, and he starts dusting off the slush when Reyes approaches him, huddled in a stray blanket for warmth. He jumps up and down, jaw trembling and lip pouting, so Scott decides to have mercy on him. As soon as Scott invitingly opens his arms, Reyes launches himself at his body, tucking his cold nose into Scott’s neck for comfort. Scott laughs heartily, arms curling around Reyes’ body protectively, as if shielding him from a more imminent threat.

            Scott whispers a quick spell, warming the air around them. Both of them understand that Reyes could have easily done so, instead of seeking shelter in Scott’s arms, but Scott allows it because he doesn’t mind the closeness in the slightest.

            So he lets the matter go. For now.

            “Enjoying yourself?” Scott asks teasingly, his breath escaping once he feels cool fingers slip through layers of fabric, finding solace against his skin. Reyes chuckles lightly before brushing his lips against Scott’s pulse, causing a sea of red to flood his cheeks. Scott coughs, embarrassed. “Enjoying yourself a little too much, I say.”

            Warmly, Reyes nuzzles against Scott’s jaw, mindful of his raspy stubble. He eventually pulls back, only far enough to stare into Scott’s light blue eyes. Any further, and Scott suddenly grabs a hold of Reyes’ hips, pulling him back in.

            “I could leave, if you wish,” Reyes says, his eyes alight with mischief. He knows exactly his effect, but Scott merely chuckles, tightening his hold almost possessively, as if Reyes would disappear in a wisp of smoke if given the chance.

            “Now, let’s not get hasty,” Scott replies. “I never asked you to leave.” He pecks Reyes’ lips soundly, savoring the sensation. “I don’t think I would want you to.”

            Then, as if his words are a trigger, it’s like ice shooting down Scott’s spine, swift and sinister. Scott knows he screwed something up as soon as Reyes stiffens in his grasp, stuck between wanting to stay and wanting to escape. Instead, Reyes follows his first instinct, attempting to diffuse the now-tense situation with humor.

            “Careful, Scott,” Reyes teases, looking away emotionlessly, “I’ll start thinking that you actually like me.”

            “And…” Scott prods, trailing off. Reyes’ gaze returns, brows furrowing in frustration.

            “And what?” Reyes asks, refusing to jump to his own conclusions. Not when it involves Scott.

            When… when did he become so _weak_?

            “And what if I do like you?” Scott asks —no, _states_. Because it’s not a question, not now. It’s its own confession, wrapped in meanings that Reyes doesn’t even want to think about.

            “Someone like you shouldn’t like someone like me, Scott,” Reyes huffs in exasperation. His inviting hold on Scott is obviously at odds with what he is saying, but Scott does his best to calm his spinning mind, focusing on his companion. “I’m not a good man.”

            “Hmm…” Scott reaches up and taps a finger against his chin, thinking through his response. “You’re not a slaver, are you?”

            Reyes looks appalled that he even has to ask.

            “What?” he sputters, offended. “No, of course not!”

            “Well,” Scott says, shrugging, “I already know you’re a blood mage. Maybe you’re a racist, then? Or a sexist? Or both, I guess. That’s a possibility. Oh!” Scott snaps sarcastically, as if he had some grand epiphany suddenly strike him down. “You’re a lyrium dealer, aren’t you?”

            “More like a murderer,” Reyes sighs, straight to the point. Scott is relentless, however.

            “So you’ve killed innocents then? Children, perhaps? Are you a serial killer and didn’t tell me?”

            “No, no, nothing like that,” Reyes huffs, growing tired of this game.

            “Then what, Reyes? What?” Scott argues, growing just as irritated. “What makes you such a bad man?” Nothing. No response. Just nothing. “You know, I’m not an idiot. I know enough to make my own assumptions about what you being a pirate entails.” Reyes continues to stay silent, so Scott continues to speak. “Listen, I’m not trying to justify whatever sins you believe you’re stuck with, but I’m also an adult. Most things in this world aren’t that black-and-white, Reyes, so you need to accept that I’m a big boy that can make his own decisions. That said, I can also form my own judgments about people, you included.”

            Reyes sighs wearily.

            “Even if they’re wrong?” he asks.

            “That’s the thing about opinions. I don’t think I’m wrong. Not about you—” Scott hesitates then presses forward. “—and not about _us._ But I’ll happily deal with whatever consequences come with those opinions.” Scott answers confidently, boldly, and he does not falter. Now, to ease Reyes’ mind. “Besides, we _are_ still learning about each other.”

            “So does that mean there’s still a chance that you’ll go running for the hills?” Reyes jokes, but there is something in his eyes. Something bleak, something vulnerable... Something that says that he’s simply waiting for it to happen, for Scott to leave him, as if it is an inevitability, instead of a possibility.

            Looks like Scott will have to prove him wrong.

            “Just don’t give me a reason to,” Scott whispers, leaning in to capture Reyes’ lips with his own. Reyes responds in kind, allowing himself to be swept away for but a moment, yet both men linger, neither one wanting to truly separate from the other.

            When Reyes feels his spirit unintentionally reaching out for Scott’s, enhanced by touch and seeking to intertwine, he yanks away in fear, having never experienced _that_ firsthand before. It has always been Scott’s spirit coaxing Reyes’ out with a song of longing, but Reyes has never felt himself initiate that type of contact between the two, something deep and spiritual, something intimate and binding.

            Reyes knows that he is a fool, a coward, but he can’t help it.

            He runs.

            “I’m—” He falters, pulling away from Scott. He goes to retrieve his quiver and his bow, searching for something — _anything_ _—_ to do. “I’m going to go hunt. I’ll see if I can find us anything for supper.” He won’t even look Scott in the eye, to see the bewildered pain that undoubtedly rests there, and the scene is all too reminiscent of when he left Albarracín. How pitiful he is. Reyes Vidal, the man who runs… “I’ll be back soon.”

            And with that, he is gone.

*****

            Come nightfall, Scott is silent as they both sit around the fire, picking at what bits and pieces that Scott had salvaged from the ram Reyes brought back. The kill was clean and perfect, as was to be expected at this point, and Scott had just enough experience from being on the run to understand how to butcher and serve the cuts. Of course, Scott didn’t expect the meal to taste like some fancy Orlesian platter, but what should have been a decent meal soon turns heavy upon his tongue, sticking to the roof of his mouth and settling in his gut uncomfortably.

            A few more bites in, and he soon gives up. The ration isn’t worth forcing down, so he turns to retrieve his lute from one of his bags, needing a distraction from this wretched day. As he sets up to tune, strumming here and there, eyes follow his every movement, but Scott doesn’t allow that to affect him. With their arrival in Haven fast approaching, he simply cannot allow himself to be affected at this point.

            He is well into playing a light, airy tune when Reyes finally addresses him.

            “I didn’t know you played,” he says. Quietly, hesitantly... His voice is small and hurting, and Scott hates how he cannot stand it. He skips a beat in the song, but he quickly recovers, not wanting Reyes to comprehend how much he gets under Scott’s skin.

            “Maybe you don’t know a lot of things about me,” Scott goads, more out of pettiness than anything. Reyes clenches his jaw, staring into the fire, chewing deliberately on his cheek.

            “Maybe,” he allows, glancing towards Scott. Musical notes continue to flutter throughout the air, oblivious to the tension around them. When Reyes speaks again, Scott is not expecting it.

            Scott misses another note, and he is slower to recover this time.

            “Excuse me?” Scott asks, turning to scrutinize Reyes with wary eyes. “What did you just say?”

            Reyes mumbles under his breath, running his hand through his tousled hair, messing it up even more. Black strands fall stubbornly in front of his eyes, and Scott has to refrain from reaching out to fix it. He hones in on Reyes’ words, and —no, he was not mistaken the first time. He catches them clearly this time around.

            “I said, ‘I’m sorry,’” Reyes huffs, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

            Scott raises an eyebrow, as if unimpressed, but he cannot hide how the corner of his mouth ticks up into a smile.

            “Can you repeat that?” Scott says sarcastically, setting his lute aside to place a hand at his ear. “I might need you to say that one more time because I suddenly can’t hear.”

            Reyes sniffs disdainfully, leaning over to shove Scott into the snow. Scott chuckles again, and Reyes pouts.

            “No need to be an ass,” Reyes sneers, although with no real heat behind the gesture. Scott chortles at his expression, and Reyes has to stop himself from joining in. He’s stubborn enough not to surrender so easily.

            At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

            The point still stands.

            “As I was saying,” Reyes says, interrupting Scott’s laughter, “I apologize. I was— _am_ confused.”

            “About?”

            Reyes smiles softly, apologetically, scooting over to where Scott is seated. His companion doesn’t object when Reyes snuggles against his side, leaning his head on Scott’s shoulder, but Reyes is better prepared whenever his spirit shyly reaches out to Scott’s. He honestly doesn’t know what he expected the first time, but Scott’s spirit seems welcoming enough.

            How they intertwine almost reminds Reyes of the seers. Or, well, the ones that are possessed at least. It’s always mesmerizing to witness how two can merge to become one, separate yet whole.

            Reyes doesn’t tell Scott about this. He isn’t ready. Not yet.

            But that doesn’t mean he’s unwilling to talk.

            “I’m confused about you, us… Both?” Reyes sighs in frustration. “I don’t know. It’s all a blur. This has all been happening so fast.”

            “If it’s too much…” Scott says, trailing off. Reyes shakes his head vehemently at that.

            “No, it’s not. I was just more surprised than anything.” Reyes nuzzles against Scott’s jaw again, cherishing the warmth, both in body and in spirit. “You are… extraordinary, Scott.”

            “Please,” Scott snorts, blushing at the praise.

            “It’s true,” Reyes protests, grinning widely. “For me, at least.”

            “Well then…” Scott swallows, trying to clear his suddenly parched throat. “Thank you.”

            “No problem.” Now, it’s Reyes turn to act closed-off, ignoring his fluttering heart. “Would it surprise you if I said that you make me feel things?”

            “Oh no, not ‘things,’” Scott whispers theatrically. “Maker forbid you have emotions, Reyes.”

            Reyes snickers.

            “I know. Dreadful things, those emotions. Always getting in the way.” Reyes shuffles uncertainly, getting comfortable while Scott pulls him in, dragging him closer to his body. “In all seriousness, though, I apologize for how erratic I’ve been acting lately. Whether through others’ actions or my own, I don’t have the best record when it comes to keeping lo—” Reyes immediately backtracks, not ready to walk into that field quite yet. “—close ones around. I know it’s silly. Obviously not every relationship is going to be like that, but—” He shrugs, helpless.

            Scott nods in understanding.

            “You could’ve just told me,” Scott whispers.

            “No,” Reyes says, “I couldn’t have, but I’ll work on it. I promise.” Reyes sits up, leaning away. “In the meantime, I want to show you something. A gift, if you will.”

            “A gift?” Scott questions, watching Reyes move away with curious eyes. When the other man pulls out one of his smaller blades, bound in a deep crimson cloth, Scott’s smile wavers. “You sure that I’ll like this gift?”

            “I’m positive,” Reyes reassures, slicing through his left palm with practiced ease.

            Scott winces sympathetically, but Reyes doesn’t even blink, holding his fist over the ground between them and squeezing. Drop after drop falls to the earth, seeping through the snow and settling into the dirt. Reyes quickly whispers an incantation, something ancient and foreign that Scott cannot pick up on, and he sends a surge of magical energy into the dirt before them. While he binds his bleeding hand in the red cloth, the blood on the ground visibly soaks in, thinning out until it is no longer there. Another rush of magic is sent through, this time with Reyes’ good hand, and Scott can admit that he can barely contain his curiosity. He leans forward, watching and waiting…

            Until he notices a patch of grass starting to burst through the snow, bringing new life into the world. But it doesn’t end there. Slowly and steadily, one sprout after another begins to open, growing tall and stretching its leaves to the darkened sky. Several stalks develop, soon followed by their bulbous buds, tense and trembling, thriving with life. When the flowers bloom, it’s like a tiny explosion of color. The lilies are a deep, dark red with patterns of orange, yellow, and pink mixed within. They are like their own little fires, a yawning sunset after a long, weary day.

            Scott traces a petal softly, admiring Reyes’ handiwork.

            “Amazing,” he whispers in awe. “How did you do that?”

            “Life begets life,” Reyes simply explains, but Scott can detect a hint of chagrin in his voice. When he glances up, Reyes is staring at the flowers, scowling.

            “What is it?”

            “Nothing,” Reyes says, grimacing at Scott’s disbelieving look. “It’s just that I didn’t expect flowers.”

            “Is that it?” Scott chuckles. “What did you expect?”

            “I don’t know,” Reyes huffs grumpily. “It’s a spell we use in Rivain to help our farmers’ crops grow. It’s rarely used by itself. Normally, something is already sprouting before we use it.” He shrugs, embarrassed once again, staring down at his creation. “I guess I expected a beet, maybe.”

            “What a romantic gift you had in mind,” Scott drawls. “Have to say I liked the revised version better.”

            “Good to hear,” Reyes laughs, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Scott’s heart skips a beat, but Reyes doesn’t notice, reaching down to pluck a flower. When he presents it to Scott, Scott’s hand comes to rest over his, and they sit there for a moment, unmoving. “I guess it’s all a matter of focus. Focus on crops, and crops will grow.”

            “So focus on flowers, and flowers will grow?” Scott asks.

            Grinning, Reyes pulls away to pick another lily. This time, he smooths back Scott’s hair behind his ear, settling the bloom into place. Once its position is fixed, Reyes caresses Scott’s cheek, seeking out his spirit on instinct now. Like a desert man thirsting for water.

            “Not quite,” he finally answers, leaning forward to steal a kiss.

            But one is not enough for Scott. He reels Reyes in, lips pliant beneath his, and Reyes is lost, falling. Into what exactly, he doesn’t know, but he enjoys the trip regardless.

            Scott’s mouth parts beneath his, and Reyes traces his lip with his tongue, seeking entrance. Once Scott allows it, Reyes feels powerless to Scott’s pull, maneuvering to straddle his hips, wanting nothing more than to sink deeper and deeper into this man.

            When he feels Scott smile into the kiss, he returns it with a grin of his own, lingering as long as possible.

            “Reyes,” Scott croons, pulling away all too soon for Reyes’ tastes. He nips playfully at Scott’s bottom lip as he draws away, greedily drinking in Scott’s swollen lips and darkened eyes. Even as disheveled as he is, he is still a man of beauty, truly a marvel to behold.

            Until he opens his mouth.

            “I swear by the Maker, Reyes, if you ruin my flower, I’ll kick your ass,” Scott playfully threatens. The declaration is so random and so sudden that Reyes cannot even think of stopping the bark of laughter that escapes.

            “You don’t even believe in the Maker,” Reyes protests. Scott sulks mockingly at him, clutching protectively at the flower that’s wedged between their bodies.

            “Not the point,” Scott says.

            “Wow,” Reyes drones, “nice to know that you’d choose a flower over me.”

            “A man has to have priorities,” Scott says, flipping them over without warning. It takes all of Reyes’ willpower to remain focused on Scott, instead of the fact that the man is now snugly nestled between his legs. Scott continues to stare down at Reyes, eyes hooded with passion. “It’s a very, _very_ beautiful flower.”

            “Mmm-hmm…” Reyes agrees, undulating his hips. The action is worth it, watching Scott’s pupils blow wide in desire, watching his lower lip fall slack around panting breaths… The air grows thicker, fuller, and the tension is literally palpable at this point. “Exquisite.”

            “Haha…” Scott laughs, near hysterics in his desperation, but Reyes doesn’t let up, arching his back slightly off of the ground. “Why do I have a feeling you’re not talking about the flowers anymore?”

            “Because I’m not.”

            “Oh,” Scott stammers, clutching on to his flower for dear life, “I— uh, well…”

            “Something wrong, Scott?” Reyes hums, continuing his careful ministrations. Scott narrows his eyes at his pirate, smirking victoriously.

            “Nothing at all,” he replies with renewed confidence.

            Bracing himself, Scott drops his flower in favor of picking up Reyes into his arms, standing tall with a warrior’s strength. Reyes, startled and unprepared, squawks inelegantly at the sudden movement, throwing his arms around the other’s shoulders, wrapping his legs around his waist. He takes a second to bask in the feel of muscles shifting beneath his touch, but Scott steals his breath —and his thoughts— away with only a kiss, walking towards where his tent lays.

            “Heading to bed already?” Reyes breathes in delight, chuckling throatily against Scott’s mouth. “Here I thought you were going to serenade me with that lute of yours. Court me like a real gentleman.”

            “Is that what you want?” Scott asks, setting Reyes down on his feet, only to shove him back into his tent. Reyes spreads out on his bedroll like something out of a dream, but Scott doesn’t want to wake up. Not now, not ever.

            “Not tonight,” Reyes sighs, stretching out his throat while Scott peppers it with frenzied kisses, sucking and nipping at the flesh. The air noticeably thickens, heavy and heady, and Reyes feels sparks flutter across Scott’s skin. He grins when the next kiss falls, hands bundling urgently into Scott’s clothes. “Just try not to set the tent on fire, cariño.”

            Scott giggles, light and airy, intoxicated by Reyes’ presence. He starts stripping away Reyes’ clothes, exposing each piece of skin and lavishing it with the attention it deserves.

            “I’ll do my best,” Scott promises slyly. “Wouldn’t want anything to happen to my pirate, now would we?”

            “ _Your_ pirate?”

            “If you want to be,” Scott quickly amends, internally cursing himself for the dumb mistake. Reyes considers the other man for a brief second before he pulls him back into his arms, wrapping his body tightly around him.

            “I think I’d like that. Perhaps a bit too much,” Reyes murmurs, tugging off Scott’s clothing, piece by piece. When there is nothing left between them but the whisper of skin against skin, Reyes allows himself to be vulnerable, even if for just a moment. “Show me.”

            “Show you?” Scott questions, brows furrowing in confusion. Reyes smiles serenely, feeling Scott’s spirit tangling playfully with his own. He reaches up and smooths away Scott’s wrinkled brow, trailing his hands down to tenderly cup Scott’s cheeks, thumbing at the stubble left behind.

            “Show me that I’m yours,” Reyes explains, no more and no less.

            So show him, he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading! :D


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